


Scorched Earth State of Mind

by realpoutydadsurvives (collettephinz)



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Suicide, Chris Redfield being a real friend, Chris Redfield gives the best hugs, Chris Redfield is just pure, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Italy and Switzerland knowledge in work, Leon Kennedy deserves his breakfast and his vacation, Leon Kennedy has such artful sarcasm that words fail me, Leon Kennedy needs a hug, M/M, Undercover shit, another evil mansion, attempt at plot, customary violence for the canon, discussion of sexuality, head injuries, kinda revenge plot, offscreen character death (not characters listened in tags), one OC for a villain who i hate, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-01 08:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 62,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17863796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/realpoutydadsurvives
Summary: Chris scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, certain he looked absurd. A huge man still in his uniform and gear, sitting in a small chair in a tiny office. His biceps were the size of O’Brian’s computer. “I did what I had to do to get the job done.”“And that’s all we ever expect,” O’Brian replied. “Regardless, people saw. People took notice. People who decided you’d be the best person to keep Agent Kennedy on a leash and controlled.”“What the fuck is he doing?”O’Brian paused. “I’m assuming you haven’t heard, then.”“Heard what?”“Sherry Birkin is dead.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to make a joke about my first dipping of my toes into the RE fandom but honestly i've been here since like 2005 this is just the first time i've *written* anything for it and finally found a ship i could really get behind (thanks to Vendetta :P) and this also isn't the first fic i've written but i'm still??? nervous????? idk
> 
> i'm kinda being loose with canon, since RE apparently doesn't even know what it's doing. the RE2 remake was *fantastic* but what even is a canon storyline anymore guys? who knows what's fucking happening? not Capcom, that's for sure, love them regardless. 
> 
> so since canon is loose, i'm taking some liberties??? i needed a solid ordering figure with the BSAA and since i couldn't find anyone that took O'Brian's place, i went with O'Brian again. then there's the whole "BSAA can't fuck around in the US that's DSO territory but DSO can do fuck all cause America" and idk i even went into the wiki and shit to find some sort of solid rule and found nothing.
> 
> *also* i always found myself thinking back to the concept of being able to mind control lickers that was explored in Resident Evil: Damnation to be *real fucking op* and idk why they haven't explored the concept further (as far as i know i'm behind on the books) so i wanted to fuck around with that
> 
> and can i just say summaries are the fucking devil and i hate absolutely and everything about them? like what the actual fuck people who get published pay other people to write the summary for them it's just nigh impossible for a writer to summarize their own work it's cruel and unusual punishment to expect them to manage it i wanna file a complaint get me the manager
> 
> lastly, Leon Kennedy is my all time fav but Chris is easier to write, as i've personally explored, so who knows what i'm gonna do. i'm just happy to be writing for them and hope y'all enjoy it :) thanks!

During his BSAA career, Chris Redfield had long ago learned the difference between wanting and needing. 

Most of his orders came in the form of a want, even if they meant need. It was like the word “need” was reserved for higher purposes, apocalypse scenarios, a last ditch effort. Like Bruce Willis had _wanted_ to get onto that meteor or comet or whatever, but he’d _needed_ to stay behind and sacrifice himself. The BSAA wanted Chris to go into the field and shoot whatever they pointed at, they wanted him to keep his men alive, they wanted him to stop these corporations and syndicates and cults and they wanted him to use any means necessary. 

Chris had learned the stark difference between want and need back when he’d been young and stupid and had thought umbrellas were just useful tools on a rainy day. Now that he knew the difference, knew that a lot was wanted from him but rarely was something needed, the report coming across his desk after dredging through undergrounds tunnels in a shit hole bayou had been enough of a shock to give him an extra boost of energy, keeping him on his feet long after he’d needed to rest.

_We need you to assist DSO Operative Leon S. Kennedy._

That word there. “Need.” That stuck out like red ink even when it was in the same regular black and white as all of his reports. There were often times when Chris’s missions would go from a want to a need, but he’d never seen it on paper. He’d never have the word staring him in the face, undeniable in its urgency. _We need you to assist DSO Operative Leon S. Kennedy._

What could the President’s golden boy need of Chris? They’d clicked well after chewing each other out back in New York City— they’d taken down Arias and had gotten Rebecca the antidote to whatever steroid virus Arias had given her, and then they’d sprayed the rest of the infected city with the shit that looked like snow. Chris had lost one man. One. While that was unacceptable to him on so many levels, losing only one man on his team was a disgusting kind of improvement for him. Rebecca had given both him and Leon a hug, said something about always being happy to help, but preferring to help from the safety of a lab, and Chris had left with an extra number in his phone, Rebecca’s face smiling at him from his contacts. He’d gotten sent into Dulvey, Louisiana to help the fuck ups at Blue Umbrella, and Leon had been sent to wherever the fuck DSO agents went. Maybe he’d actually gotten that vacation. 

A spiteful part of Chris had hoped he hadn’t. Call Chris an asshole, call him a bullheaded soldier, call him whatever you wanted. Leon had been damn near a liability in the beginning, refusing to give vital intel just because he wanted to feel sorry for himself. That kind of shit was simply something Chris couldn’t allow— not when lives were on the line. 

And now— now Chris had this big fucking word “need” in front of his face. The idea of Leon S. Kennedy needing him was a twisted sort of pleasure. Everyone always spoke of Kennedy getting the upper hand regardless of the adds stacked against him. Leon Kennedy didn’t need people, people needed Leon Kennedy. But it wasn’t like Chris could hallucinate this word in before him. Maybe it wasn’t strictly Leon Kennedy needing him, but someone out there thought Kennedy did. That was better than anyone else had ever gotten before. 

It also helped to know that whenever Leon Kennedy was, it meant the world was about to end in some great ball of fire. That meant that Chris was back on the “save the world” schedule, and getting out of mosquito-ridden swamps. Ethan had been a good guy, and Chris was happy Mia had survived the shitstorm as well, but he hated the south. He was happy to leave it in the dust, even if it meant putting up with Mr. Perfect-Face.

That came out a little too bitter. Maybe even a little too revealing. It wasn’t like Chris was blind, after all, nor was he deaf. Leon Kennedy was described as the Golden Boy for more than just his ability to save any situation by the skin of his teeth. Even Claire had once admitted to Chris that she’d been a little smitten with the rare smile she got out of Leon on his good days. And Chris wasn’t, like— he didn’t— he wasn’t into—

It was complicated. It didn’t matter. Chris had all of his senses and brain function and Leon Kennedy, while a bit of a prick, looked damn good in just about anything, even an inch of muck from crawling around in sewers and spores. If anything, Leon looked best in the sewers, because his clothing would stick to him like a second layer of skin. It had been hard not to appreciate the way Leon Kennedy could look fantastic doing just about anything, and there had been this moment back in New York, after that shootout in the halls of Arias’s hiding spot. They’d come out on a momentary top, faced each other, met eyes, stood closer than normal, not said a word, and Chris, for a moment, had thought—

It was complicated and it didn’t matter. What did matter was the word “need” staring Chris down and daring him to even consider denying the orders. Chris was well overdue for some time off, but there was no way in hell he’d put his gun down if fuckers out there still needed stopping. Chris Redfield had a job to do, and he wasn’t about to gripe about the endless cycles of terrorism like fucking Leon “Debbie-Downer” Kennedy. If anything, Chris was probably needed to kick that guy’s ass into gear. Maybe Rebecca would have been a better choice, or even Claire if they could wrangle her up, but Chris didn’t like to make a habit of arguing with brass.

Sitting in front of Clive O’Brian, though, Chris really did feel tempted to argue just because of the way O’Brian seemed so fucking sure he should go. 

“I still wanna know why BSAA is being set up on a formal operation with DSO,” Chris insisted, feeling like he wasn’t being given every bit of info he deserved. “Especially since they’re a U.S. operation and yet, for some unknown reason, Agent Kennedy is in Italy. I don’t wanna sound ungrateful, but I feel like I’m playing with only half a deck of cards.”

“There is little else I can give you,” O’Brian said, looking like he felt sorry for it too. “They’re pretty hush-hush about the what and the why, saying Agent Kennedy will give full debrief, but isn’t actually aware of being given a formal partner. It was decided the best person to work with him would be you, after considering what happened in New York.”

That didn’t click into place at all. “That was an extenuating circumstance,” Chris reasoned carefully. “I needed him for his information on _Los Iluminados_ and his experience with BOWs. Having him with me wasn’t supposed to be documented or on any sort of record.”

“You think you could destroy millions of dollars of real estate in the center of New York fucking City and not get on some sort of record? Yes, Agent Nadia pulled the trigger, but Leon Kennedy was the one to drive a Ducati into a monster’s face, and you were the one to blow up tankards in the middle of the street. Do you have any idea of the headache we’ve been swimming in? Just feel lucky you’re not part of the legal team, and you’re not expected to know how any of that shit works. I’m damn near balding at this point.”

Chris scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, certain he looked absurd. A huge man still in his uniform and gear, sitting in a small chair in a tiny officer. His biceps were the size of O’Brian’s computer. “I did what I had to do to get the job done.”

“And that’s all we ever expect,” O’Brian replied. “Regardless, people saw. People took notice. People who decided you’d be the best person to keep Agent Kennedy on a leash and controlled.”

“What the fuck is he doing?”

O’Brian paused. “I’m assuming you haven’t heard, then.”

“Heard what?”

“Sherry Birkin is dead.”

Chris— wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “Come again?”

O’Brian sat forward, something like pity on his face. “Sherry Birkin is dead,” he repeated. “In relations to the Los Iluminados cult, or what is left of them. It was known that they were funding Arias’s attacks, but it seems as if they took the defeat in stride. Agent Kennedy is pursuing a lead on a possible BOW they may have attained through their kidnapping and subsequent… assassination of Sherry Birkin.”

Chris had a memory— his sister Claire, after having finally tracked him down, had shown him a photo. It had been of a girl with blond hair and a red band behind her ears, smiling up into the camera with a Parakeet perched on top of her head. Claire had told her that the girl’s name was Sherry Birkin. She and Leon had saved the little girl from the overrun Raccoon City and that she was back in the states with Leon, learning how to be normal again. Claire had told Chris all of this with the fondest smile. She’d told Chris that Sherry was something like a daughter to her and Leon. Even after Claire had fallen in deeper with TerraSave, she’d never lost that strong bond with Sherry, regarding the girl as family as close as Chris. 

“Sherry Birkin is dead,” Chris said, solidifying the idea to himself. “Does my sister know?”

“Yes.”

Why hadn’t she told him? Had Claire been wary to bother him? Had she known he would drop his work to be there for her? Maybe she’d been right not to tell him she’d lost someone who she essentially saw as her daughter, but Chris still felt almost slighted in being kept in the dark.

“Before you start getting all offended, you should realize that Sherry Birkin’s death is on a need to know basis,” O’Brian said, interrupting Chris’s train of thought. “It wasn’t considered that you needed to know until now. The circumstances of Sherry Birkin’s death are even more in the dark. I’m under the impression that your sister knows very little of how it happened, save that Agent Kennedy was the one to discover her death at Los Iluminados’ hands.”

“We don’t know anything?” Chris pressed. “Even why?”

O’Brian shook his head. “It’s all being kept under wraps. Pretty sure the only person who knows for sure is Agent Kennedy. And he isn’t exactly talking, which is why DSO did a little digging and decided you’d be the best person to keep an eye on him while he goes looking for his revenge.”

“Is— is he okay?” Chris knew that Leon had been the one to take care of Sherry while Claire had been away, before eventually being picked up by the government. If Claire had felt _almost_ like Sherry was her daughter, he knew Leon had to feel the same tenfold. If Leon had been the one to learn of what Los Iluminados had done…

O’Brian grimaced. “If you accept this assignment, you should know Agent Kennedy is unofficially on suicide watch.”

Chris sat ramrod straight in his chair, the s-word alone making his heart stop. He had more than his fair-share of experience with suicide, but it was always in the context of sacrifice or prevention of becoming a monster. Even so, Chris knew of soldiers like him who had crumbled beneath the pressure of what they’d seen and taken their own lives. When he’d last spoken to Leon, it had been obvious just how deeply Leon was sinking into his own despair. Finding solace in a bottle was a common coping technique. But suicide. Chris couldn’t imagine someone like Leon trying to take his own life. Not until he put it in the context of who Leon had just lost.

“Is it safe for him to be on the field?”

“That’s exactly what the DSO is thinking,” O’Brian told him. “And it’s why they want you with him.”

Chris didn’t exactly like Leon Kennedy. It was unfair to say he _disliked_ the man, considering how few personal facts he knew of the other agent. He knew Leon Kennedy had seen and experienced horrors that were comparable to what Chris had been through. He knew Leon Kennedy was a good man and an even better weapon. And Chris knew that he’d lived his life with a certain idea— if Chris ever died, he’d be able to rest easy knowing that he was leaving the world in the hands of the Golden Boy who could save everyone with a pistol and anything with two wheels. 

Leon Kennedy, while an asshole, was Chris’s failsafe should he ever make a wrong move and end up in a grave like every team member he’d ever lost. The idea that Leon Kennedy had tried to take his own life meant that Chris was no longer safe to put caution to the wind and do whatever he could to save the day. Chris needed Leon Kennedy alive to be able to do what was necessary— even dying.

“I’ll do it,” Chris said, steeling his jaw. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Make sure he gets through this alive and intact. But what are their plans for after that?” What was the DSO going to do with their best agent gone-suicidal after he’d gotten his revenge?

“That’s not up to us,” O’Brian said. “All you need to concern yourself with is making sure Agent Kennedy is returned stateside in one piece.”

“Affirmative,” Chris said distantly, looking back down at the mission in his hands. 

_We need you to assist DSO Operative Leon S. Kennedy._

It was starting to look a lot more like Leon Kennedy needed him more than the BSAA, but Chris knew damn well Leon Kennedy wasn’t going to take his help without kicking and screaming.

. . .

Silver Dagger pilot D.C. dropped Chris off at the outskirts of Verona, Italy, where Leon Kennedy was apparently holed up, working his angle. Chris was supposed to drop into the guy’s safe house unannounced, because it had apparently been decided that they were better off throwing Chris into Leon’s lap without warning, rather than give him enough time to go AWOL if he didn’t like the company he was expected to keep. 

Chris had never been to Italy before. It was nice, he guessed, though he had a habit of peaking around corners and watching civilians like he was ready for them to turn at a moment’s notice. The fact that he was going to be helping Leon hunt down a known BOW terrorist organization didn’t help his paranoia. Still. It was a nice city. Population just over seven hundred thousand, didn’t seem to have a huge crime rate, tons of friendly people yelling because that was how the language worked. And here Chris was, thinking Leon had missed out on that vacation again. 

The safe house Chris was directed to was a small flat just outside the Piazza dei Signori. Chris climbed the stairs, noting the the musky smell and the loud neighbors, the sounds of a soccer match blasting from the door beside what was Leon’s apartment. It seemed innocuous, not expensive enough to draw attention, but also not grimy enough to be dirt poor and dangerous. Leon had been the one to chose this place, apparently. From what Chris had read of Leon’s sparse report on his assignment and plans, he’d picked this place out because it was close to some mansion that was just beyond the city line, on a huge plot of land, isolated. Whoever lived there was Leon’s target. Chris didn’t like the idea of fucking with the rich since they had a lot of cameras and eyes on them. 

He shouldered the duffel that was carrying his gear and some added stuff DSO had packed for him that Chris hadn’t looked through. He took in a deep breath as he stood in front of the door that had the rusty numbers _86,_ with the eight swinging down off its bottom nail, hanging below yet still the same as ever. Leon had no idea Chris was coming. Leon probably didn’t even know the DSO was sending someone to keep an eye on him. Chris didn’t know what exactly to expect when dropping in on one of the most dangerous men in the world, but he knew he shouldn’t be looking for a warm welcome. He lifted his hand, hovered his knuckles over the pealing red paint, took in another deep breath, and—

The door was pulled open before he could knock. 

Leon Kennedy had seen better days.

“The hell?” Leon asked, brow furrowing. “They sent you? You’re not authorized to be in any of this.”

“Hello to you too,” Chris replied, trying not to roll his eyes. “I’ve been well, yeah. Had a stint in Louisiana, still got some mosquito bites that just won’t quit. Aloe doesn’t work on them like people say it should, but other than that, I’ve had a great time since we last met. How are you?”

Leon scowled and would have slammed the door shut in Chris’s face if Chris hadn’t been anticipating this and preemptively placed his foot between the frame and the door. Leon slammed the door on his foot, but not his face. “Get out.”

“The DSO requested me specifically,” Chris told the door. He could probably get his hand in, maybe brute-force his way inside, but Leon was reportedly in a bad place, and Chris was going to be working with him whether Leon liked it or not. He wanted to be careful about this. Wanted Leon to know he had some iota of control. “I normally wouldn’t have agreed considering how long it’s been since my last day off, but… I heard. About Sherry.”

There was silence from beyond the door, so Chris continued. “I don’t know how happened,” he explained carefully. “I don’t know any more than that it did. Whatever else there is, that’s your business. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry that it had to happen at all. And that I’m here to help in any way I can.”

There was more silence. Then the door swung open again and Chris’s foot was released from its agony. He was wearing regular tennis shoes to match the jeans and t-shirt he’d pulled on to pass as a civilian and not give away Leon’s safe house. That being said, tennis shoes weren’t exactly about to offer any measure of protection from the door breaking the bones of Chris’s foot. 

As Chris stepped inside and dropped his duffel onto the floor by the door, Leon walked away. It gave Chris a chance to look around, sweep his eyes over the clean, sparely-furnished flat. There was a living area immediately to Chris’s left upon entering, kitchen to the right, the dining table just beyond with a single door leading into another room on the left as well. Chris assumed that was the bedroom and bathroom, where Leon was likely storing any weaponry he had, away from prying eyes. Now that he’d seen the place, Chris took the chance to look over the inhabitant.

Leon was thin. Bizarrely thin in a way that had Chris worried about Leon’s physical ability to be on an assignment, let alone emotional. His cheekbones were sharper than ever and his eyes had bruises beneath them, dark enough to make his bloodshot eyes still seem white. He was pale, too, and his hair looked a little less vibrant than normal. All of these signs pointed to the malnourished state the DSO had reported finding Leon in. Chris realized he didn’t know how long ago that had happened. 

“Just say it,” Leon said, startling Chris a little. “I look like shit.”

Now that, Chris couldn’t say. Even for as bad as Leon looked, it was all relative. Leon still looked like a fucking model that belonged on Italy’s finest runways, and four days of starvation wasn’t enough to kill off any of Leon’s accumulated muscle mass. Chris snorted a laugh and shut the door behind himself, making sure to lock it loudly. “Let’s just say that I’m not really going to judge you for however long it’s been since you took a shower.”

“I took a shower an hour ago,” Leon replied, still wearing that scowl. “You’re really here to help me? The DSO sent you?” At Chris’s nod, Leon cursed. “I told them to send me two people, not one.”

Now that was a surprise. “You asked for this help?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Leon affirmed. He went to the closed door on the left, ducked into the room for only a moment, and came back out with a manila folder. He slapped it down on the table and went to lean against the kitchen counter, jutting his chin out to show Chris he wanted him to look. “I need at least two people for what I’m doing tonight. But just you will have to do. I need you to go into Agapito’s personal files on his computer while I distract him. It’ll be upstairs, limited security and guards, and even though your stealth is absolute fucking shit, I expect you to be able to handle something as easy as that. You’re gonna look for a file talking about an address in Switzerland. If there’s more than one address, grab all of them. We need to find out where the underground silos are.” 

Chris absorbed this all slowly, going to the folder and flicking it open to be greeted by the face of a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair, the name Vergil Agapito below. Scanning his file revealed him to be some low level arms dealer who liked to swim with bigger fish than he could handle, acting as an informant to both sides to keep a steady flow of information. The only reason he wasn’t dead yet was because he always knew something the other person wanted to know. He had some violent crimes on his record. A scumbag, sure, but not exactly someone Chris would think of when dealing with BOWs. The Chris ran over the plan again in his head and frowned. 

“You’re gonna be distracting him? With what? Your stellar personality?” Chris looked back to the other agent with a brow raised. “Maybe they should have sent Nadia down with me. I’m sure she’d have an easier time distracting your guy.”

Leon’s expression was flat. “Agapito is gay.”

Oh.

“Okay,” Chris said slowly, now wondering if he’d just shoved his foot in a door again without knowing what was behind it. “And, uh. Are you… you know. Okay with that?” Chris had been with men before and was still wrestling with how stupidly attractive Leon could look when drinking water, but as far as Chris knew, Leon had always been more like James Bond. Fast, cunning, and preferring the fairer sex. Ada Wong, for starters, then that lovely Angela Miller. He’d never heard of Leon going for men before.

Leon sneered. “Does it matter if I’m okay with it or not? He has the intel I need, and when I met him the first time, the only reason I managed to score an invitation to this party he’s throwing tonight is because he has some sort of attraction to me. It doesn’t matter if I’m okay with it, I need to get that info, and tonight is my only shot.” Leon jabbed his thumb at himself. “I’m distracting Agapito.” Then he pointed a sharp finger at Chris. “You’re getting me those addresses. Capisce?” 

“What crawled up your ass?” Chris asked before immediately regretting it. “Sorry, sorry,” he fumbled to say as Leon’s expression became thunderous. “That was tactless, shit. I’m sorry.”

Leon pushed off from the counter and marched towards Chris, getting chest to chest, sharp eyes boring into him. “You listen to me, Redfield,” he growled. “In New York, I was following your orders. But here, going after Agapito and those Los Iluminados _fucks,_ you listen to me. You said you know Sherry is gone so then you must know why I’m doing this. Either get your head with the fucking program and help me, or _leave._ I can do this alone if I have to. But nothing— and I mean _nothing_ — is going to keep me from taking these fuckers down, _once and for all._ ”

Chris had seen a lot of shit; he didn’t scare easily. Yet the way Leon was looking at him, coupled with the dangerous intent in his voice and knowledge of what Leon was capable of, had Chris’s instincts telling him to run, to gain ground, to recollect and face his opponent with better options. His instincts were telling him Leon was going to hurt him. “Calm down, Agent Kennedy,” Chris told him carefully, using the formal title to hopefully remind Leon of what they were. Two agents working together on a case, calm and professional. It seemed to work. Leon took a step back, expression shuttering. Leon ran a hand over his face and looked away. Then he scowled again and pointed at the folder.

“Read that,” he told Chris. “All of it. I’m going to get ready.” Leon turned on his heel and went through that door on the right again, slamming it shut. 

Chris heard the lock turning and shouted: “You leave that shit unlocked!” He didn’t mean to yell, but he needed Leon to know he was serious. A locked door between him and a suicide risk was a gamble he wasn’t willing to make. Regardless of his tone and Leon’s dislike of being ordered around, the lock turned again. Leon even went as far as turning the handle once, showing Chris it really was unlocked. Good.

Chris sighed, regretted just about half of what he’d said in the short conversation they’d shared, and sat down at the tiny table, readying himself for his least favorite part of his job— reading. 

. . .

It took an hour, but Chris knew more than he would have wanted. The thing about his line of work was that he was more of a grunt than an investigator. Sure, he could handle an undercover stunt or two here or there, but the devil was in the details, and Chris fucking hated the devil. He preferred knowing only the bare minimum he would need to make it out alive. Reading the file of the information Leon had collected gave him way more than he’d wanted. 

Still, Chris couldn’t help but feel a begrudging kind of respect. Leon had poured his heart and soul into this, even with what little time he’d had. It was obvious that the amount of research and attention to accuracy was beyond normal for a DSO operative. This was almost art. A horrific painting of what Chris was slowly realizing to be a true threat for the safety of the Western world.

Chris wasn’t sure where Sherry’s death fell into this mess, but he knew enough about Agapito and Los Iluminados. The straggling remains of the cult that had funded Arias’s mania had been licking their wounds below ground, building on what they already had. They’d moved on from the Plaga, it seemed, sticking with the less-easily attained G-virus and working to conform it with the newly-developed A-virus in an attempt to weaponize the monsters. There was apparently some information on a strain of the T-virus being used to successfully control lickers somewhere in Eastern Europe. That was the scenario Los Iluminados was looking to replicate, although using the much more durable victims of the G-virus to act as some sort of monster-ridden military. 

It really was an end-of-the-world situation, and Chris was glad to be part of the solution. He knew Leon was very much used to saving the world on his own, but after the loss of Sherry, alone was the last thing Leon should be. Chris tried not to let the panic of facing down another apocalypse settle in his gut. He should be fine with this by now, was getting close to being able to ignore the adrenaline and fear at the prospect of what would come if he failed. He couldn’t rely on the fact that Leon would be just behind him, ready to pick up the pieces if Chris fucked it all to hell. Leon was with him and Chris was scared of a locked door between them. This wasn’t exactly an ideal setup to keep the world from ending again. 

It didn’t matter, though. Chris didn’t have a choice.

It looked like tonight was the party being thrown by Agapito, who was in league with Los Iluminados by some extension of use. Agapito acted as a layman and smooth talker, apparently one the people that had helped Los Iluminados get their hands on the G-virus through a third party, guilty by association. Chris wasn’t sure how they’d managed that, considering most of the last samples that weren’t on the black market were kept under close watch and—

Sherry Birkin was DSO. Sherry Birkin was dead. 

Los Iluminados had killed her.

Chris sat forward and stared at the picture of Agapito, who was smiling back at Chris with arrogance glinting in his dark eyes. Agapito had been in the U.S. recently, doing something that Leon hadn’t been able to describe, but— it was very possible Agapito had been had been the person to get Sherry Birkin into the hands of Los Iluminados, and probably some extension of the G-virus. Sherry knew what the virus could do better than most, after all. Her parents had been the ones to create it. It seemed like a shaky connection, but Leon’s need for revenge seemed to support the possibility. 

Chris’s eyes were drawn to the shut door. Even for his shaky re-introduction into Leon’s life, he felt sorry for the man. Chris knew loss very well, being an orphan. But he’d never lost a child, someone he would have happily given his life to protect. He couldn’t imagine how defeated Leon had to be feeling. And with how he’d already been on such unsteady ground with the course his life had taken—

The door swung open suddenly and Leon stepped out, looking smart in a three-piece, black suit with a dar red undershirt and a black vest. It fit him perfectly and Chris really hated that, even as malnourished as he was, Leon looked good enough to give Chris some awful form of temptation. Leon stood in the doorway and did up the cuffs of the sleeves, watching Chris with narrowed eyes. “Did you read it?” he asked. When Chris nodded, Leon nodded back. “Any questions?”

Chris hesitated. “Did Agapito take Sherry?”

Leon halted, looking thrown off by the question. “No,” he said after a moment. “Los Iluminados grabbed her on their own. They were tipped off by an informant of Agapito’s, one of the only reasons why Agapito is involved with them at all. He was the middleman between the two parties.”

“An informant?” Chris asked, looking back down at the folder and leafing through the pages, almost certain he wouldn’t have missed that. Maybe it was the same person who had gotten them the G-virus sample. “Who was—”

“Ada Wong.”

The pages fell from Chris’s hands as he looked up at Leon in shock. The man was avoiding his gaze, eyes down on the cuffs again. His mouth was a downturned line, but his eyes were glassy. “I don’t think she was absolutely aware what she was doing,” Leon said, somehow still able to defend the woman Chris was almost sure Leon was in love with. “I know she wouldn’t have told them if she had understood, and she likely thought she was only answering to Agapito. But when Los Iluminados asked after the location of anyone who would know of the G-virus, she let it slip to Agapito anyways. Whether or not it was intentional doesn’t matter. Sherry’s gone.”

Leon’s arms fell limp to his sides. For a moment, he looked like the shell of the person he’d one been— Leon looked like a grieving father. The black suit was suddenly a sickening sight on his frame. It looked too much like funeral wear. 

“We have other people,” Chris reminded him carefully. “Agents more specialized in this kind of shit, undercover shindigs and boring parties and info gathering. You and I aren’t exactly meant to be doing this kind of thing. Undercover ops are meant for people who are trained to do it, not us apocalyptic combat specialists.”

“You think I’m a combat specialist?” Leon sounded almost like he wanted to laugh. “That’s all?”

“You’re more than that,” Chris replied offhandedly. “But on paper, that’s what we are. Just a bunch of weapons that aren’t afraid to pull the trigger. We’re not party-goers and informants and infiltrators. We get the results from the info they give us, not the other way around. And you—” Chris cut himself off, not knowing how Leon would take this.

Leon sneered. “Say it,” he pressed, looking like he already knew. “Just fucking say it. That I’m a liability. That I can’t watch my own back in the state I’m in. What does it fucking matter? I need to be the one to do this and I’m going to make it happen no matter what. If you think I’m a risk, then go back to wherever the fuck you came from. I can do this alone if I have to.”

“I didn’t say that,” Chris sighed. “I’m just worried you’re gonna get your head blown off if you go barreling into this place without any real thought behind it.”

“Did you read the report?” Leon asked. “Did that look like I haven’t put any thought into this?”

Leon had him there. “I don’t want the world to lose both of its get out of jail free cards. If we get in there and suddenly get caught, there’s no one they can send in to save us. We don’t have Valentine or Piers or anyone that can suddenly swoop in deus ex machina style and get us out of hot water. What’s your contingency? Where’s your backup plan? Silver Dagger isn’t supposed to be getting into this until we’re out of Italy.”

“I have a backup plan,” Leon snapped. “Do your fucking job and we won’t need it.”

Chris threw his hands up. “Fine,” he said. “I’m done fighting. You got another one of those fancy suits or do I have to sneak in, full gear?”

Leon hesitated. “I don’t think anything I have would fit you,” he hedged. “But you should have been given something. I already gave DSO the specifics of what you needed for this. Check your bag.”

That was probably a smart idea. Chris stood from the table and went to his dropped duffel, bringing it to the counter and unzipping it. He pushed through the contents, past his protective gear and the civilian clothing and toiletries to find a garment bag folded neatly at the bottom. “Huh,” he said, pulling it out, already having a good idea of what it was. He held it up for Leon to see, grinning. “DSO really does have your back, huh?”

“Rarely,” Leon griped. “Put that on, we leave in twenty minutes.”

“Do I need to do anything important?”

“Why would you?”

“I don’t know— I really don’t do this sort of thing often.”

“Not even to accept awards and shit?”

“We’re special ops, we don’t get recognition.”

Leon grimaced. “Fair enough.”

Chris unzipped the garment bag and looked over the suit. It seemed pretty much the same as Leon’s, save Chris’s getup was black and white versus black and red. The shoulders were hilariously broad to fit Chris’s physique and he knew he was going to take a picture in the mirror to share a laugh with the rest of the BSAA and his sister.

Fuck, Claire. Chris hadn’t even thought to contact her. Maybe because he was worried that since she hadn’t reached out to him, she didn’t want to talk to him at all. He was respecting her space, that was an important thing among siblings. But Chris couldn’t help the niggling older-brother protective instinct that was telling him to at least send her a text. But that would be fucking stupid considering he was about to go undercover with a fucked up DSO agent. He should have called her before the flight into Italy.

“You awake, Redfield?”

Leon startled Chris from his thoughts. “Just thinking about my sister,” he said truthfully. “She would find the idea of me in a suit for a party hilarious.”

Instead of saying something of the affirmative and saying anything about Claire in general, Leon clammed up, jaw snapping shut, eyes darting away. “Go get dressed,” Leon ordered. “I don’t want to be late because of you.” Then Leon turned to the window and faced outside, to the setting sun. A clear dismissal, an end to whatever short conversation they could have had. Chris frowned, but didn’t fight it. He wanted to think all of their arguing was done after the first five minutes of being in each other’s presence. After that, it should be smooth sailing, if previous experiences held true.

Changing into the suit was a fucking ordeal just because Chris was horrified at the prospect of ripping a seam. “Should probably cut out a rep or two,” he told himself with a grunt as he painstakingly pulled on the suit jacket that was just as fucking tight as everything else. The buttons of the dress shirt were just barely holding on and he looked fucking ridiculous. Scratch taking a photo, Chris didn’t want anyone to ever see him like this. He winced and reached down to readjust the front of his dress pants, hating the bulge and how constricting these things were. He couldn’t wear a cup, that was for damn sure. Could barely fucking move in this. 

“How am I supposed to do anything stealthy in this?” Chris demanded as he stepped back into the main room for Leon to see him. The other man glanced to him, then did a double take, brow shooting sky high. “You see?” Chris asked, gesturing to his body. “This is ridiculous. They gave me something two sizes too small.”

“Jesus christ,” Leon murmured. “Who did you piss off in the DSO?”

“That bad?” Chris tried to raise his arms. He could barely get them above his head. He bent his knees and did a couple squats, testing the give of his pants. “Holy shit, I think my dick is gonna burst a seam.”

Leon choked on a burst of laughter while Chris flushed shamefully, unsure of why he’d said that so candidly. But Leon was covering his mouth to keep from laughing any further and that was an improvement to the despondent man he’d been before. “Why are you laughing?” Chris asked, deciding he’d push this a little further. “Trying to say you think I can’t?”

“Like I would dare,” Leon said with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s just say that the rumors your legendary proportions reach further than just the BSAA.”

Chris wasn’t a fucking teenage girl, he didn’t blush, but he had no other word for how his face heated up at Leon’s words. “Shut up,” he said lamely, going back to stretching the limits of the suit because he didn’t want to think about people spreading rumors about the size of his cock. That was a breach of privacy that he didn’t want to face. He tried to think of who could have told anyone but came up with a bunch of nothing. The men and women he’d been with had been of the upmost caliber as people. All he could think of were the communal showers. 

“You still with me, Redfield?”

“Screw off,” Chris replied without thought. “Making fun of my dick.”

There was another chuckle from Leon, a light sound, almost pure. Chris had to think back on if he’d ever heard Leon laugh out of anything other than cynicism and realized he hadn’t. The sound of Leon laughing for real— it was good. “I can promise that I was attempting nothing short of flattery,” the other man said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “And look— worse comes to worse, you can run around that place in your skivvies. Put some added shock value to the stealth, the guards will have no idea how to react.”

“Blind them with my legendary proportions?” Chris asked. 

“I regret ever telling you that,” Leon deadpanned. 

For a moment, things felt almost normal. Leon was smiling ever so slightly, in that tiny way he would smile when he wasn’t weighed down with the worries of the world, and Chris’s chest was light with the jovial feeling that came with bantering among comrades. But then Leon’s phone pinged with an alarm and the smile was washed away. Left behind was absolutely nothing, the eyes empty and tired. Leon looked to his phone, then slipped it into his back pocket. “Time to go,” he told Chris. “I’m driving.”

“Of course.”

“You gonna complain? You’re the one spacing out.”

“Screw off,” Chris said again. Leon waved him off and grabbed a set of keys off the counter. “I’m thinking,” Chris defended as he followed Leon out of the flat, feeling naked without any kind of sidearm on his person. 

“Thinking, huh? Didn’t know that was one of your specialities,” Leon said. 

Chris narrowed his eyes at the back of Leon’s pretty head. “I’d smack you for saying that, except I don’t hit women.”

Leon glared at him from over his shoulder, stopped short on his way down the stairs so Chris was forced to grab the railing or trip, and then flipped Chris off without another word. 

This was going to be a fun night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a'ight a'ight a'ight a'ight a'ight now ladies
> 
> okay so this is the one with the attempted rape if you're not cool with that stop reading around the line "it's so cold" and pick back up a couple paragraphs down on "can you walk" 
> 
> also it might be a little strange for Leon not to fight back???? but i have my reasons and there's the malnourishment + pretty bad injury + just him being a little broken cause he's gotta get shit done so idk it makes sense to me XD

Chris didn’t like Agapito— not one fucking bit. 

The man wasn’t anything scary looking and he wasn’t stronger than Chris, but the way his eyes swept over the crowd reminded Chris far too much of a vulture searching for its next meal. Agapito was high above the party happening in the main hall of the mansion Leon had driven them to, their host preferring to observe from the balcony. Leon had pulled him aside to the free bar to give them both a chance to check the place out, all of the ins and outs and exits. Tons of windows, far too many lights, more guards than were necessary, though they weren’t packing any serious heat. The earpiece in his ear was uncomfortable and Leon’s own earpiece was flesh colored and tiny and not nearly as reliable as standard issue. Chris didn’t like this one bit. 

He fucking _hated_ it after Leon told him the plan.

“He’s going to take me into the back rooms,” Leon told Chris, sounding so sure of it. “I will make sure that he fails to lock any doors. You follow behind and get into his shit, on the upper level. Security will be be more lax because they aren’t expecting any partygoers to do any snooping. _Los Iluminados_ doesn’t even realize Agapito is on my radar. This should be done quickly and cleanly.”

“And how will you keep Agapito from locking the doors, exactly?” Chris asked, holding a flute of champagne that he had no intention of drinking. Leon was also staying away from alcohol, oddly enough. Even his favorite flask was absent from his person and he wasn’t holding a drink. 

“I told you, he’s already shown interest in me,” Leon said. “It shouldn’t be too difficult for you to imagine.”

Yeah, Chris fucking hated everything about this. “We don’t sell our bodies for info, Leon.”

“It won’t go that far,” Leon said. “Just the thought of this slimy hands on me make me sick.” Leon shuddered, visibly and alarming. Chris took a step closer to the other man, wanting his presence beside Leon to be reassuring. “I’m not going to let that fucker touch me, but I’m not going to let my issues keep you from getting the addresses. If you do this fast enough, I won’t even have to make it all the way down the hall.” There was an edge to his voice, some kind of hopefulness. Leon wasn’t counting on Chris to do it quickly, but he wanted him to. Wanting versus needing. Chris was going to put this in the “need” part of his brain, for Leon’s sake.

“So what are you gonna do?” Chris asked. “Saunter up to him and plant a big ol’ smacker on his cheek?”

Leon scowled. “Hardly. We’re going to make a scene— if he’s going to take me back there, we’re going to need to make it obvious that I need to be taken from the immediate vicinity.” Leon looked to the glass in Chris’s hand. “Ditch that. Get some red wine instead. We’ll stage an argument, a lover’s quarrel, if you will, so Agapito knows he’s already got an in. You throw the wine in my face, Agapito plays the gracious host trying to get into my pants, and we’re set.”

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” Chris warned him. “That guy looks like he’s used to getting what he wants.”

“I know,” Leon agreed grimly. “It’s why I wanted at least two people on this with me.”

Chris didn’t understand what he meant as Leon went to the bartender and got a glass of red wine, some blend that was probably more expensive than his suit and definitely not Chris’s taste. He liked the idea of throwing it in Leon’s face a little more, though. Almost felt like this was really exciting and even fun compared to his usual missions. “I just wanna say, I could do way better than you in the boyfriend department,” Chris joked, trying to make light of this. “You don’t deserve me.”

“I know.”

Chris almost dropped the fucking glass. The way Leon said it, the way he wasn’t letting Chris see his face, _what he’d fucking said._ Warning lights were going off in Chris’s head, a blaring statement that they shouldn’t be doing this, Leon wasn’t in the right place for this kind of work. The cocky, arrogant, trauma-hardened man had fallen away into only the traumatized. This wasn’t safe. Safe? “We need a safe word,” Chris said.

“A safe word?” Leon repeated with a scoff. “Sorry, Redfield, I don’t put out until the third date.”

“I mean it,” Chris insisted, ignoring the hammer of his chest at Leon’s insinuation. “Agapito is bad news and I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him. We need a safe word. If one of us says it, the other comes running, no matter what. We don’t have any backup. This is the only safety measure we’ll feasibly be able to use.” 

Leon scowled. Then he looked up at Agapito above, shoulders tense. “Raccoon.”

Chris winced. “That’s morbid.”

“You wanted a safe word, did you? Take it or leave it. I’m not going to use it regardless.”

“That’s stupid— it should be a phrase you can say and make it sound normal, but that I can know is actually a bad thing.”

Leon looked pissed. “Fucking— what do I say? What is there?”

“I don’t know,” Chris admitted. “He’s obviously trying to get in your pants. Maybe something random, like: ‘it’s a little hot in here.’”

“Wouldn’t that make it sound like I’m coming onto him? Fuck that, I’ll say it’s getting cold.”

“Does it matter what temperature we choose? I’m gonna come running regardless.”

Leon’s scowl deepened. “Stop acting like I need you to protect me. What we both need is for you to get that shit off his computer and then get out of here and that’s it. The information is what matters and believe me when I say I intend to survive this so I can get those bastards between the eyes.”

“Just— don’t let that fucker do anything you wouldn’t let me do.”

Leon whirled around to face him, expression momentarily stunned. Then it disappeared quickly, Leon covering the slip with something like anger. “Just do your fucking job.”

Chris wondered how he’d managed to fuck that up. “So what are we fighting about?” he asked instead. “Does your mom hate me? Or did I sleep with someone else? Maybe you drove too fast and I’m whining about early heart failure?”

“You’re nearly fifty, Redfield.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Just stop hiding how much you hate me,” Leon told him. “But do me a favor and don’t throw too hard of a punch.”

Chris frowned. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

It was Chris’s turn to scowl as Leon left the bar area and moved to the center of the huge room, perfectly within Agapito’s line of sight. Other patrons milled about, talking amongst one another, looking like they were worth millions. Chris had never really liked the apathy of the upper class, never liked the frugality of it all. They’d spend so much on themselves and nothing on others, calling it “saving their hard earned wealth” as they cruised around in sports cars and sailed away in their yachts. Of course, Chris knew plenty of rich people who did good shit. But he didn’t see any of them in the crowd tonight. 

“Alright,” Leon said, turning to face him. “You wanna start this or should I?”

“I hate how perfect your hair is,” Chris said, contorting his face into something that he hoped looked angry. “Why can’t you just admit you’re like the rest of us? We can’t all afford to spend a hundred fucking dollars on shampoo and hair care! Why can’t you put me ahead of your cosmetic needs for once?”

Leon stared at him for a solid eight seconds like he didn’t understand what was being said to him or what role Chris was trying to fill. “I… don’t use product.”

Chris blinked. “I don’t believe you.”

“I really don’t,” Leon insisted. They weren’t even acting. “It’d be too much work.”

Chris’s eyebrow twitched. “Scratch what I said— I think I do actually hate you.”

Leon pursed his lips and cocked his head. Chris realized he was trying not to laugh. Then Leon said, “We can’t save anyone.”

Chris threw the glass down at their feet and clocked Leon across the jaw before he even knew what was happening. Leon stumbled, hand to his face. Chris was left reeling with what he’d done, the smallest noise echoing in his ear— the sound Leon had made when Chris had hit him. This tiny little gasp, an edge of a whimper, a noise of pain that wasn’t a protest. Leon had known Chris was going to hit him and he’d done it anyway. The fucking sound he’d made—

“Walk away,” Leon hissed from where he was bent over and pretending to recover. Chris knew he’d hit Leon harder than he should have, but he also knew Leon could be thrown into a concrete wall and still make a headshot immediately after landing. If they were in a normal fight, Leon would have bounced right back up and gone for Chris’s knees. But they weren’t in a fight. They were at a fucking party and Chris was supposed to have been staging a lover’s spat, not hitting Leon like he wanted to break him. “Walk away!” Leon repeated urgently beneath his breath. “They’re coming!”

Chris pulled himself together and glanced around to see that there were guards approaching him, talking into their wrists. While Leon thought his stealth was shit, even Chris knew how to get lost in a crowd, regardless of his size. He disappeared into the throngs and easily lost his tail, knowing that the hard part had finally reared its ugly head. His phone was in his back pocket, a reminder of what he was here to do. Chris flexed out his right hand, looking down the knuckles that were already starting to bruise. He wondered how bad Leon’s face looked.

He shouldn’t have done that. 

Leon had said something that Chris would normally find unforgivable, but he knew Leon had his reasons for saying it at all. Chris hadn’t been rising up to staging a fight like he’d needed to and Leon knew that they had to make it look real. He’d done what he’d known would get a realistic and immediate reaction from him, Leon had done the right thing. It was Chris’s fault for losing his shit like that. The other man was an asshole, yeah, but he didn’t deserve to be hit hard enough to nearly send him to the ground. And with Sherry gone—

 _“That was some blow,”_ came a foreign voice from over Chris’s com, a strong Italian accent with a drawl like molasses. _“Are you sure you don’t need medical attention, Tesoro?”_

 _“I’m fine, Vergil,”_ came Leon’s voice next, much more audible than Agapito’s, and bizarre to have so close in Chris’s ear. He’d used coms with Leon back in New York, but it hadn’t felt like this. He’d had Damien and D.C. and Nadia’s chatter as well. Right now, all he had was a scumbag and Leon fucking Kennedy, who somehow had an attractive enough voice to match his perfect face. Life just wasn’t fair sometimes. _“I didn’t expect him to act like that. He seemed fine on the drive over. Everything was supposed to be fine. I didn’t mean to do that. I suppose— I guess I said something wrong.”_

Holy shit, apparently Leon was some sort of actor, because even Chris was buying into the despondent, crushed tone Leon was carrying. Agapito rushed to console, murmuring soft words in Italian, then saying something about Leon not deserving it at all, no man like him deserved to be faced with such brutish cruelty. Like Agapito was one to talk. Chris peered out from behind the pillar he’d gotten cover from, looking up at the balcony where Agapito was standing way too fucking close and touching Leon like they were beyond friendly at this point. 

_“I really am okay,”_ Leon said softly, sounding like a different person entirely. _“I did something, I know I did. He’s not the kind of person to act out like that in public. I deserved it.”_ Leon played the role of the battered victim terrifyingly well. _“I just— could we maybe go somewhere else? Somewhere quiet? All of these people saw that. I can’t imagine what they must think of me. And it— it_ hurts.”

God damn, what the fuck, even Chris was being slammed with the need to take Leon someplace quiet and safe and shelter him. Since when was Kennedy an actor? And since when was Chris such a fucking sucker for whimpering men? His knuckles still ached. 

_“Come with me, Tesoro,”_ Agapito purred, putting his arm around Leon’s waist and leading him down the stairs, to an unguarded door that was off to the right of the refreshments. The guards were obviously hired help because none of them seemed genuinely concerned in following Agapito, nor did they stop Chris from darting after them when he knew the coast was clear. Testing the doorknob revealed it was still unlocked, true to Leon’s words. Agapito was speaking softly over the mic while Leon only made small noises of affirmation to show he was listening. Chris moved quickly, bringing up his memory of the map that had been in Leon’s file.

He crept up the stairs that were at the end of the hall, opposite of the direction Agapito had taken Leon. Everything was decorated with gold and silver and carved elegantly, looking leagues better than the decrepit mansions Chris was used to visiting. He was sure this mansion would turn into one of those places in due time, but for now, the colors and lights threatened to stun him. 

Bounding up the stairs brought him to another long hallway of gold walls and velvet carpet, gaudy taste even by Chris’s standards. He knew the door to the man’s personal computer room was going to be the third on the left and that it was password protected with the ever-original sequence _1234._ Chris had no idea why Los Iluminados had been desperate enough to work with a man as stupid as Agapito, even once, but it was working out well for him and Leon, in the end, so he couldn’t complain. 

Chris reached the door and keyed in the code, frowning at the tiny tune that let him know he was in. He wondered why he’d given undercover operatives so much credit in the past when it was this easy. The room looked like some swanky officer, tall ceilings with complicatedly decorated rugs and long, velvet drapes. There was an oak desk in the center with a wide computer monitor atop it. Chris rounded the desk, eyes alert for any cameras and really disappointed to find none. Agapito was shit as his job. Los Iluminados would have been better off finding Ada Wong on their own.

When Chris got to the computer, he found it already on and the desktop screensaver up. Moving the mouse revealed that Agapito hadn’t even locked his computer. Just— what the fuck?

“Found his computer,” Chris whispered into coms. “Looking for the addresses.”

 _“I just don’t know if I’m comfortable with moving so quickly,”_ came Leon’s voice over the coms, something wavering in his tone, something offsetting that drew Chris’s full attention back to the conversation playing in his ear. _“My boyfriend is out there— I-I don’t like to make a habit of cheating.”_

Chris was startled to realize that the shake in Leon’s voice wasn’t part of an act.

 _“I cannot morally allow a man like you to go back to a caveman like him,”_ Agapito purred. _“You deserve to be treated with respect. With kindness. With gentleness.”_ There was the sound of cloth moving and Chris’s hands spasmed across the keyboard in a moment of panic. He knew what Agapito was trying to do and he knew Leon wasn’t about to break his role if it meant that he would keep Chris from getting the addresses. Chris didn’t know how far Leon was willing to go and he hated it. 

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” he assured Leon softly, turning his full attention to the screen, even as Leon continued to protest Agapito’s advances as politely as possible. “Please tell me you’re not alone with him.”

 _“What about your guards?”_ Leon asked.

 _“They’re gone,”_ Agapito purred. _“They know better than to listen. It’s just you and me, Tesoro.”_

“Fuck,” Chris whispered, his heart pounding in panic. “I’m looking, Leon, don’t let him do anything.”

_“Stop touching me.”_

Leon— Leon did not sound okay. Chris couldn’t focus on that right now, couldn’t let himself be distracted. He checked through the emails, the calendar, the notes, found nothing at all, tried not to panic as Leon began to sound more and more desperate. It felt like hours even as only minutes passed before Chris finally managed to find addresses in Switzerland, screenshots hidden deep within folders in the images tab, the messages accompanying the addresses all in Italian and useless to him. Chris pulled out his phone and took a picture, figuring that would be the safest bet so Agapito wouldn’t get wise. Chris sent the picture to Leon’s computer back at the flat and then pressed his finger to his ear. But before he could tell Leon he’d gotten it, that Leon could leave, he heard the other agent say: _“Why did you lock that door.”_

It wasn’t a question, Leon knew the answer. So did Chris. His blood ran cold. 

“Where are you?” he asked Leon urgently, closing everything on the computer and forcing it back into the screensaver. “Leon, where are you?”

_“Let me go, Vergil.”_

_“I’m afraid you and I both know I won’t, Tesoro. I’ve been watching you since you came into my home, been keeping a keen eye on your person. I saw how unhappy he made you. I understand what the problem is now.”_ More rustling of cloth, the sound of Leon giving a struggle. _“He has poisoned your mind. I’ve seen it before, Amore, and I know how to cure you.”_

“Leon, I’m coming to you.”

_“Don’t you dare.”_

Chris knew that Leon wasn’t talking to Agapito. He was telling Chris not to come, that it was under control, that he could handle it. Then Leon let out this noise, there was the sound of something hard hitting something else with the crack of glass, and then silence. A long, stretch of silence. 

Then a zipper being undone. 

“Leon,” Chris called out sharply. “Leon, fucking answer me.”

 _“Did you hit your head, Tesoro?”_ Agapito asked with sickening worry. _“That doesn’t look good. Look at you, my dear, you can barely keep your head up. Let me take care of you.”_

“Leon, I need you to fucking talk to me,” Chris said, knowing he was defenseless and knowing he wasn’t about to let that stop him. Chris swept his hands over the wood of the desk, pressing and searching, finding a catch and pulling it to reveal the Colt 45 Peacemaker in the hidden drawer beneath the top of the desk, loaded with extra rounds to the side. Chris grabbed it and checked the revolver over, making sure he could use it. “Where are you, Leon?” He knew the hallway Agapito had taken the other agent down, but that hallway had had at least five fucking doors and Leon didn’t have the time for Chris to play hide and seek. He darted out of the computer room and down the hall, down the stairs, holding the Colt up and steady as he looked around corners. 

The hall Agapito had taken Leon down had had _five fucking doors_ and Chris didn’t have enough time.

“Leon, talk to me,” Chris said as he tested doorknobs, trying to sound like he wasn’t begging even though he was close. He didn’t hear a word, but he did hear Leon’s voice, a pained little noise that had Chris fearing the worst. Agapito let out this little laugh followed by this disgusting grunt. Chris didn’t even want to think about what was happening. The third door he tested was locked. He pressed his ear to it and heard an echo of the sounds Agapito was making, rustling and skin and horrible things. Chris took a step back, checked that the lock was ordinary and easy to break, and then gave Leon one last chance. 

“Leon,” he said in a calm whisper. “I am outside the door. I have a weapon. I am about to come inside and blow the stealth aspect of this shit to fucking hell. I need you to tell me if you need me, otherwise I will ruin everything wether you like it or not.”

There was a long moment of silence. Then Leon’s voice, weak and trembling.

_“It’s so cold, Chris.”_

Chris kicked the door in at the handle and stormed into the room. Agapito turned to him with a shriek, naked from the waist down, holding a bare leg in the air. “Who the fuck do you—”

Chris pistoled whipped him halfway through his sentence and Agapito hit the floor hard. Chris grabbed a throw pillow, straddled the fucker’s waist to keep him from moving, laid the pillow over his face and shot him through the down and feathers. It muffled just enough to give Chris less of a panicked urgency and time to stand and collect the situation. He looked to the bed and—

Oh god, there was blood. 

Leon was a crumbled figure, curled up on the bed with blood staining the sheets beneath his head. He was breathing slowly, a ragged rise and fall of his ribs. His pants were down to his left ankle and there were scratches down his hips, long red lies that were bleeding sluggishly as well. Leon’s knees were to his chest and his arm over his face. For a moment, Chris didn’t know what to do.

Then he scrambled to the bedside and started pulling Leon’s slacks back up his legs, ignoring the bruises and cuts he saw and definitely not looking any higher than Leon’s knees. “He’s dead,” he told the other man. “We need to move.”

Leon pushed his hands away and Chris tactfully ignored the way Leon was shaking. “Don’t touch me,” Leon said, his voice ruined. He wasn’t able to sit up, though, so Chris ignored him and reached forward to gingerly push his fingers through Leon’s hair and check his head. He winced when he came across an awful gash beneath the ear and looked around the bed to see what could have done this. The porcelain vase that was speckled with blood stared back innocently. 

“Can you walk?” Chris asked. “We need to leave.”

“Don’t touch me,” Leon said again, words slurred. 

“I want to respect that, I really fucking do,” Chris told him. “But this fucking colt is not know for its subtlety and I need to get us both out of here. Can you walk?”

Leon lifted himself from the bed with great effort, hiding behind his hair to Chris wouldn’t see the pain that fluttered across his expression. “They won’t come,” Leon managed sluggishly, every word sounding like it hurt. “He doesn’t always want his conquests alive.”

Chris felt ill. “Did he—” He cut himself off, not knowing how to handle this. If Leon were a woman, he’d have a better idea. Not that it was any worse or better, but he’d gotten training on this sort of shit, but it had only applied to women. Jesus christ, Chris had no idea what to do. “I just— were you—”

“He didn’t get that far.” Leon stood on coltish legs, his breath coming faster. He swayed badly and Chris caught him before he could tip too far. “Oh god, my head.”

“It’s fine when monsters break your spine, right, but head injuries?” Chris tried to joke. “Even you aren’t immune to that.”

Impossibly, Leon managed a smirk, fake but an effort Chris appreciated. “Guess I’m off my game.” Then he swayed again and his eyes went glassy. “I’m gonna be sick.” Chris grabbed the vase that had done this to Leon and handed it to the other man just in time for him to dry heave into the porcelain, a broken whimper being the only sound he made. Chris’s hands hovered in the air, wondering if he should lay a hand on Leon’s back or not. But then Leon was back up and standing solid and setting the vase aside like nothing had happened. “We can’t go out the front,” he said as he pulled on his dress shirt. The suit jacket was ruined, though, one of the sleeves shredded off the seam. “There’s a garden exit down the stairs to the left, same set you went up. We can get to the valet from there and get out.”

“Leon, are you—”

“I’m not talking about it.”

Chris winced. “Just wanted to know if you need a shoulder.”

Leon turned to Chris, showing his full face for the first time since Chris had left him. The bruise Chris had left was angry and dark and Leon’s lower lip was split. The blood splattered across his face from the head injury would have normally made him intimidating, especially with the sneer he was wearing, but all Chris saw was a cornered and wounded animal that was looking for the next fight for its life. It didn’t help that Leon’s eyes were unfocused like a corpse’s. 

“I’m not your enemy,” Chris said, hands held out in front of him. “What you went through—” He wished Leon had called out to him sooner. Agapito had shit security, they could’ve gotten the addresses another way. This hadn’t needed to happen. But none of that mattered. Leon had the memories now and they’d never go away no matter how much Chris regretted it. “Just let me know if I can do anything.”

Leon paused, his shoulders heaving as he breathed. Chris was worried one of his ribs were fucked. Leon had his arm cradled to his side and he was watching Chris guardedly, like he expected Chris to attack. Then, “Take the corners. I can’t— I’m no use to you right now. I’ll tell you which way to go. That’s all I’m good for.”

Chris wanted to argue, wanted to say that they wouldn’t have gotten these addresses so easily if Leon hadn’t been so self-sacrificing for their work, wanted to tell Leon that he had never ever been useless to anyone, but he knew Leon wouldn’t listen. So he just nodded, slid a round into the revolver to replace the one he’d shot into that fucker’s face, and went back to the door. He waited for a tap on his shoulder, waited for Leon to say he was ready. When nothing happened, Chris looked back.

Leon was standing in the middle of the room, staring down at the palms of his hands, gaze empty and far away. And Chris wanted to be upset, wanted to yell at Leon and tell him to get his shit together, but Leon looked like he was seconds from falling apart. And everything Chris had learned about handling women after this told him he shouldn’t be anything but careful.

“Leon,” he called out softly. When Leon’s eyes snapped up to meet Chris’s, suddenly bright and agonized, Chris gave him a nod. “We have to go.”

“Right,” Leon said. He stood up straight, listed a little, then righted himself and steeled his jaw. “I’m behind you.”

“Stay close,” Chris said before ducked out into the hall, pistol up. He loved a gun with a powerful kickback, but he really did wish he had some sort of silenced weapon for this shitfest. Leon seemed to follow orders well after going through hell, stumbling close behind Chris through the halls, still managing to keep his footsteps quieter than Chris could ever manage even on his best days. But there was an audible limp, and as Chris got to the stairs and readied to descend with the revolver trained around every angle, Leon slumped into his back with the tinniest whimper that had Chris’s chest clenching instinctively. 

He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to feeling protective of a man like Leon, who was able to hold his own against the most colossal of horrific creatures, a man who had saved the world just as many times as Chris had. Chris didn’t ever worry about Leon, never had, not in China, not in New York, not once. Yet now, with Leon’s body pressed against his back, the man barely breathing, little whimpers slipping out with every forced exhale, Chris was fucking _worried._

“We’re going down,” Chris whispered. He knew that the guards had probably assumed Agapito was going to fuck Leon, one way or the other, dead or alive, and that was the only reason that fucker’s body hadn’t been discovered yet. “Can you make it?”

There was too long of a pause before Leon replied with a small grunt and that telltale tap on Chris’s shoulder. Chris almost wanted to call Leon out, say he didn’t believe him, but that wouldn’t solve any problems. Chris needed to trust Leon as he would trust his own men. So he lifted the revolver again and crept down the stairs.

Nothing got in their way. Leon stood steady, walked quietly, and directed Chris with soft whispers of direction. Chris found the side garden door locked, but the lock was just as fucking weak as all the others and a swift kick brought it down. Once again, Chris was hit with the reminder that he had gotten a locked door between him and Leon and it had only ended in a disaster. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that— he swept the corners and found no one, and could see the valet just beyond. Chris grimaced, then tucked the revolver into the back of his slacks, knowing that the barrel would show thanks to how tight these fucking pants were, and hoping no one would look too closely. 

“You’re bleeding,” he told Leon intelligently as they crept through the garden, Leon lagging only a little. “How are we gonna pass you off to the valet?”

Leon let out a grunt and Chris stopped, figuring that meant Leon had another one of those fantastic ideas that Chris would fucking hate. But Leon didn’t say anything, only slumped into Chris’s side and threw his arm over Chris’s shoulder. When Chris stuttered at the suddenness of having Leon laid against him like this, Leon snorted a mirthless laugh and kicked Chris’s foot weakly. “Never carried your drunk boyfriend from a party?”

“Never had a boyfriend that managed to get more smashed than me,” Chris replied, giving away too much but feeling like it wouldn’t mean anything at all to Leon. Leon let out this noise of tired affirmative as Chris took the wrist of the arm slung over his neck and hoisted Leon up a little higher. “Head hurts,” Leon murmured, that tiny admittance meaning more than any amount of tears. Leon had been slammed into the corner of a concrete building, he’d been blown to fucking hell, he’d been nearly killed countless times, and not once had Chris ever heard him say a word of complaint to anyone. Chris needed to get Leon out of here now. 

“Hey there!” Chris greeted the valet boisterously, searching in his pocket for a moment for the valet ticket. “Gotta get this sucker home,” he said for conversation’s sake as he handed it over to the young valet that squinted at him like he didn’t speak English. “You know how pretty boys are— they can hold your stare for days, but they can hardly hold their liquor.”

Leon groaned loudly against him as the valet just nodded dumbly and went to get the car. Chris took the moment alone to look down at Leon, assess how bad it was. Some blood hit the cobblestone below their feet. “You got some doctor type you trust in this country?” he asked. When Leon didn’t respond, Chris’s stomach lurched into his throat. Leon was limp in his grip now, feeling more like a corpse than a person. The car was brought around and Chris lowered Leon into the passenger seat, shutting the door before the valet could see Leon’s face. Chris rifled through his wallet and tossed some bills at the kid before rounding the car and getting into the driver’s seat just as an alarm sounded within the mansion. There were shouts of panic and fear from the inside. Chris laughed awkwardly when the valet looked to him with wide eyes. 

“One hell of a party,” Chris said before revving the engine and burning rubber in his panic to get the fuck out of there.

. . .

The drive back brought Leon into consciousness, and by the time Chris pulled up in front of that apartment, Leon was alert and awake enough to argue. 

“I said I’m fucking fine,” he defended valiantly. “I’ve had slimy tentacles and guts and dead shit all over me, what the fuck does having some asshole taking my clothes off do to me that that shit couldn’t? And what’s the problem with a fucking bump on the head? I’ve been through worse, Redfield, I don’t need you telling me what I can and cannot handle.”

At this point, Chris was exhausted and tired of arguing. Leon wasn’t bleeding anymore and he was sitting upright, speaking clearly, holding a torn piece of his suit to the head wound and acting like his regular asshole-ish self. Chris had been so fucking protective of him before. Now he just wanted Leon anywhere but within his line of sight. “Do what you want,” he told Leon. “You think you’re fine, then fine. I don’t give a fuck.” He parked and got out of the car, heading up to the apartment without any offer of help to Leon. The man obviously thought he was okay, so what the fuck could Chris do? Fucking jerk.

He burst into the apartment and immediately took the chance to strip, yanking off the jacket and the dress shirt in the living area without a care. He moaned in genuine relief as his lungs were freed and he no longer felt like he was wearing some demented corset. The door opened behind him. Chris didn’t even bother to turn around when Leon came in, but when Leon didn’t come any further into the apartment as Chris tried to peal the slacks down his thighs, he turned to see if the other man had passed out against the doorframe. 

Leon was very much awake, though, looking dazed as he stared at Chris stripping in the middle of the flat. Chris’s face flushed, figuring there was probably more hangups on decency within the DSO than the BSAA. “Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t fucking breathe.”

“So you just strip?” Leon asked, still staring. His eyes weren’t necessarily staying with Chris’s, gaze roaming in a way that made Chris feel like he was lied out on a petri dish for Leon’s observation. “Jesus christ, I always figured like a bit of your bulk was added on from the armor you wear.”

“Nope,” Chris replied lamely, frozen in Leon’s stare. “All me.”

Leon swayed gently and then looked away with what seemed to be tremendous effort. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Well that was a little fucking rude, considering Chris was already undressing. But Leon didn’t seem to care and pushed past Chris, heading into the bedroom and then the bathroom beyond. The door shut— the lock didn’t turn, thank god— and the shower started running. Chris scowled at the door and went to his duffel for a change of clothes. He was wondering why Leon hadn’t made a beeline for his computer to look into the addresses. For Leon to not be one-track for the mission was a little disconcerting, but what did Chris know? This was Leon’s stunt, not Chris’s. 

As the shower created soft white noise in the background, Chris sat in sweatpants in the living room, scrolling through his phone, thinking on if he had to check up with anyone in particular. His sister returned to mind, her name glaring up at him from the screen. It would be safe enough to reach out since they weren’t going to be in this anymore country come tomorrow. His hand hovered over the name and he fought with himself for a long time. Chris had never been so nervous about calling his own sister, but she clearly wanted space from a lot of people. Did family count for anything in this kind of loss?

Fuck it.

He’d send a text.

The message was short, as were most messages between them, a harmless question asking after her wellbeing. It was read immediately, but no response came, which wasn’t a good sign. It took a long minute before there was anything. The screen was overtaken with Claire’s picture along with the option to either answer or deny the call. 

Chris hit the green button and brought the phone to his ear. “How you doing, Claire?”

_“I’m guessing you’ve heard.”_

Alright, straight to the point it was. “I’m sorry,” he told her, letting all of the pain he remembered from losing their parents seep into his tone. “I can’t even imagine—”

_“Don’t say that, Chris, you and I both know you’re one of the few who actually understands how this feels.”_

“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate that you’re going through this again.”

_“It’s okay.”_

It really wasn’t. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, offering the same as he had to Leon. “I don’t— no one really knows how it happened. I’m assuming you’re one of the few who do. If you want to tell me then I welcome it, but it’s totally okay if you don’t.”

 _“Does it matter, Chris? She’s gone.”_ His sister sounded so small, so defeated. _“Everything I’ve fought for— the reason I put myself into this hell. It’s all gone. Sherry is gone and the one person who could have saved her didn’t.”_

Chris frowned, not sure what she meant by that. “I’m sure Jake was doing everything he could,” he guessed, remembering the boy that had been at Sherry’s side through China and showed up from time to time again. Once upon a time, Chris had almost thought they were a thing. “You know what we do isn’t easy.”

_“It wasn’t Jake— Leon should have stopped this.”_

Now that—

“What?”

Claire let out this angry noise, voice cracking at the end. _“He’s the reason she’s gone, they pretty much put his name on the weapon that killed her. He could have stopped this. He should have.”_

“You— blame Leon?”

_“It’s hard not to.”_

“I don’t understand.”

 _“You don’t have to,”_ Claire replied. _“Just know it’s the truth. I’m not going to be talking to Leon for a long time and neither should you.”_

Chris guiltily cast his eyes to the bedroom, where Leon was just a door away. “Uh,” he said lamely, knowing he wouldn’t be able to lie to his sister. “I’m actually in Italy. With Leon. On an op.” He couldn’t say anymore than that, probably shouldn’t have said that at all, but his sister was in a bad place and she deserved the truth. “We’re, uhm. We’re going— Sherry will be avenged.”

 _“God dammit,”_ Claire choked out over the receiver, almost sounding like she was crying. _“Did he tell you? How it happened? Did he tell you what he did?”_

“He hasn’t said a word except that she’s gone,” Chris said. 

_“Fucker,”_ Claire spat. _“How could he—”_ She cut herself off, tone strangled, telling Chris she really was crying. _“He didn’t even stay long enough for the funeral, just fucking left the country. It was a closed casket, we didn’t have a body to bury, Chris, and he wasn’t even there.”_

“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling,” Chris said, telling the truth because yes, he’d faced loss, but he’d never been betrayed in the way Claire had to be feeling she had been right now. Leon just leaving before the funeral made sense in the soldier part of Chris’s brain, but he wasn’t going to defend Leon to his sister. “Claire, I’m so sorry.”

_“You make sure Leon stays alive so I can kill him myself.”_

Chris winced. He knew she meant it in her own way. Another glance to the bedroom and the shower was still running. Chris glanced to the clock on the kitchen oven and saw Leon had been in there for over twenty minutes. That— was that normal for him? He apparently didn’t use anything in his hair, why would he take so long? “If it helps, I think he feels as shitty as you think he should.”

_“It doesn’t.”_

Chris sighed and wished this wasn’t so one-sided. “Leon went through some shit today,” he told his sister, thinking of the way Leon had kept losing balance, losing his thoughts with glazed eyes. “I won’t go into details, but I think— I think he’s suffered enough.”

 _“Not for this,”_ Claire said firmly. _“Not for what happened to Sherry.”_

Claire hung up abruptly and Chris reminded himself to send her some flowers or chocolates or something to soothe over the disaster that had been their conversation. She really did blame Leon, though Chris wasn’t sure for what. Leon was torn apart by what had happened to Sherry. If it really was his fault—

Well, shit, if it was Leon’s fault, he’d probably be acting a lot like he was now. Putting himself into bad situations in a quest for revenge, stuck on suicide watch, shouldered with a BSAA agent that would be able to finish the mission if Leon mysteriously and tragically didn’t make it. If it was Leon’s fault, he would be doing a lot of the shit he currently was.

There was a clatter from the bathroom, a heavy thump and then nothing else. Chris sat up straight. There was no sound after that— only the water still running. 

“Leon?” he called out cautiously, standing from the couch. “You alive in there?” It felt weird to be checking up on a grown adult and seasoned agent like Leon, but Leon wasn’t answering either. Chris went into the bedroom and knocked on the bathroom door. “Leon!” He didn’t mean to sound so aggressive, but that worry from the stairs was returning. The memory of how weakly Leon had slumped against him was oppressive. He shouldn’t have let Leon sleep in the car with how dangerous his head injury was. The worry only grew when Leon gave no response.

“Agent Kennedy!” Chris barked, forgoing niceties, hoping that something in Leon’s brain would register orders drilled into his head more than anything else and trigger an automatic response. “Respond now, Agent!’

There was still nothing. 

Chris swallowed hard past the lump of fear in his throat, hand hovering on the doorknob. Want and need bled together. He needed to go in, needed to make sure Leon wasn’t dead on the ground, but— what Leon had already survived today— The idea of barging in there and seeing something without Leon’s consent—

He had one last thing to try. “Officer Kennedy,” Chris called out, softening his voice but still being loud enough to be heard over the spray. “Officer Kennedy, I need you to talk to me. I need you to respond.”

There was silence for a long moment before that terrifying small noise of pain came from inside, a fragile whimper that Chris was beginning to gain a sickening familiarity with. Leon’s voice, a shattered: “Can’t…”

That was enough for Chris. He threw open the door and didn’t even hesitate when he saw Leon naked and slumped against the shower door, the water of the shower pooling red around him. That fucking head injury wasn’t going to give him any peace. Chris dropped to the floor beside where Leon was limp against the glass, not moving. “Officer Kennedy,” Chris said, still playing the role because it was the only thing that had worked. “I’m going to touch you, okay? I have no intention to hurt you.”

Leon barely even stirred. His hair was flat against his face, wet as the rest of his body. There was no soap, no suds that Chris could see. He wondered if Leon had managed to wash off before blacking out, or if he hadn’t even managed to get that far. All of that bare skin in front of Chris’s eyes—

Chris ignored that and put one arm underneath Leon’s knees, the other around his back. “I’m going to lift you,” he told Leon calmly. “I’m going to take you to the bed and get your horizontal so you can rest.” He should have insisted on treating the head wound, it was too serious for Chris to have ignored like he did. “You’re going to be okay, Officer Kennedy, I’ve got you.”

There was a low moan of pain, then the barest whimper of— “Sherry.”

Chris’s heart fucking broke for Leon in that moment. He stood carefully, lifting Leon with his knees, ignoring the naked man in his arms, because even unconscious and injured, Leon was gorgeous. He was also lighter than Chris had anticipated, which wasn’t a pleasant realization in any way. Chris carried him from the bathroom to the bed and lied him across the sheets on the left side of the mattress. Studiously avoiding looking any lower than Leon’s chest, Chris darted back for a towel and quickly wiped the man down of the water. Leon shivered underneath his touch, and a hand came up to weakly push Chris away. “Don’t touch,” Leon slurred, eyes opening just barely, his gaze glassy. “Don’t…”

“I’m sorry, Officer, I don’t have much of a choice.” Chris got Leon as dry as he could before lying a second towel over Leon’s lower half, ridding himself of the temptation entirely. It wasn’t fucking fair to have someone as perfect as Leon looking so good when so vulnerable. His body was shiny and clean and his body was still perfectly toned regardless of how long it had been since he’d eaten. Fuck, how long had it been since Leon ate? Chris hadn’t seen him eat anything since arriving ages ago, and while Chris could go hours without food if needed, he wasn’t sure if Leon had given himself any nourishment since arriving in Italy. Starving himself— that probably wasn’t doing anything but exacerbating the problem. 

“Officer, when did you last eat?” Chris asked, keeping his commanding tone, feeling a little sorry for how this was what worked. Leon had been an officer for only one day, and yet that was how he still saw himself. A servant of the people, keeping everyone safe. Or maybe— Leon had been an officer when he had first met Sherry. “Officer, I need you to talk to me,” Chris prompted. “I need to know when you last ate.”

“Don’t touch,” was all Leon said, his words barely audible. His head lolled to the side atop the pillow that was bloodstained by now, one arm weakly rising in the air. He wasn’t going to give Chris an answer, probably couldn’t if he wanted, which meant Chris was going to assume he hadn’t. 

“I’ll be right back,” Chris said, resting a hand on Leon’s shoulder in some attempt to comfort before leaving the bedroom to search the apartment for anything Leon could eat. Maybe a smoothie, maybe a protein shake, maybe a meal replacement, he just needed _something._ It wasn’t smart to fill Leon’s stomach when he would likely get sick again, but the main problem was proving to be split between a concussion and starvation. Chris didn’t have a choice. 

He felt nothing but relief when he discovered an extensive first aid collection beneath the oven in the drawers, bandages and syringes and a portable IV with vials of differing solutions for everything ranging from dehydration to malnourishment to blood types. Did Leon need blood? Chris didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. He wanted to call Rebecca but the idea of even breaching Leon’s privacy by telling anyone what had happened was a step Chris wasn’t willing to take yet. Leon was in a bad way, but he wasn’t dying— yet. 

Chris took the IV and the solution meant for malnourishment and a butterfly bandaid, heading back into the bedroom. He froze in his tracks when he saw Leon wasn’t in the bed anymore. The window was open. “God dammit..”

An arm went around Chris’s neck as a blow slammed into the back of his knees, bringing him to the ground. Chris yelped in surprise, knowing it was Leon, but still shocked the concussed man was able to bring him down so easily. A firm elbow in his spine and then a foot planted on his back sent him sprawling face first onto the floor. Chris reacted quickly, throwing back an arm and catching Leon in the ribs. The man didn’t even make a sound as Chris flipped them. From atop, Chris saw that Leon was _still naked_ and still _gorgeous as all hell_ and his eyes were anywhere but in the now. Leon growled and brought his own knee all the way up to his own chin in a shocking display of flexibility, putting it to Chris’s chest to toss Chris over his head and tumbling him. Chris righted himself to put up a fight, his back against the wall. Leon launched himself into Chris’s lap and brought his arm up, ready to give Chris a matching bruise to the one on Leon’s face. Chris screwed his eyes shut, bracing. This was gonna hurt.

Except— the blow never came. Chris risked a peek and saw Leon had froze, hovering above Chris, fist in the air, breathing hard. His eyes were still foggy, looking almost like one of the T-virus victims, his lips delicately parted, face flushed. In any other scenario, Chris would be incredibly turned on. The weight of the man in his lap and the dazed look on his face, where pain was looking dangerously close to pleasure. God, _those fucking lips._

“Chris?” Leon called out weakly. “Where’s Claire?”

Chris had no idea when or where Leon thought he was, but he knew he had to be careful. “She’s safe,” he told Leon calmly. “She’s back in the states. You’re with me, in Italy. We just got an op done and you’re injured.”

Leon shuddered in his lap, sending delicious vibrations through Chris that made him feel nothing but guilty. “Italy,” Leon repeated slowly, bringing his fist down to run his hand over his face. “Italy… Verona…” Another shudder. _”Vergil._

Chris brought his own hand up to rest on Leon’s forearm, studiously not looking down to where Leon was bare in Chris’s lap. He could feel the man’s ass through the material of his sweatpants, could feel the line of Leon’s cock. But Chris wouldn’t look down, no matter how much he wanted to. “Agapito is dead,” he said. “Don’t even give him another moment of thought. You’re back with me and you’re safe. We needed to handle your head injury.” Chris searched for the IV with his toes and managed to get it underneath the ball of his foot, pulling it towards them. “I need to get some nourishment into you, Leon. Get up on the bed.” Chris made to stand, but Leon slammed his hand down onto Chris’s shoulder.

“Don’t move,” he said, holding Chris down weakly. Chris could very easily break the grip and stand anyways, but he had a feeling Leon knew what would be dangerous for his head better than Chris did. “Just don’t— don’t move.” Leon swayed in Chris’s lap, then righted himself, sitting up straight. 

In that moment, clouds outside parted and moonlight streamed in through the bedroom window, casting long shadows and blue light across Leon’s pale form. He looked otherworldly and frighteningly beautiful for this broken second, eyes dark and brilliant. 

One pupil was much larger than the other. 

“Don’t move,” Leon repeated raggedly before listing forward and slumping against Chris’s chest. He didn’t stir after that, didn’t say another word. When Chris nudged him carefully, Leon didn’t respond. His breathing evened out. He was sleeping.

“Alright,” Chris said, resigning himself to his fate. Leon had sounded pretty insistent on not being moved and Leon knew his injuries best. At least this way his head was upright, though Chris wished he could get Leon’s feet a little higher, but this would have to do. He got the kit further up to his hands, got the butterfly bandaid first. Using the towel that was within reach on the bed, Chris cleaned off the dent in Leon’s head, that was just below the hairline behind Leon’s ear. Chris pulled it closed with the butterfly bandaid after deeming it not deep enough to necessitate stitches. He wasn’t a doctor, but he knew the difference between serious and actually life threatening. 

Then Chris plugged up the IV, turning Leon carefully in his lap to expose his arm. God, Chris had big arms, right? But Leon had some fucking arms on him too. Chris hung the bag off the sharp edge of the headboard and then sought out a suitable vein within Leon’s arm, tapping it a couple times before carefully slipping in the needle. He didn’t have anything to tape it down, so he settled for holding Leon’s wrist firmly in his hand and making sure Leon didn’t jolt. Then Chris angled Leon’s body so his left side was against Chris’s front, lying comfortably across Chris’s legs. Chris pulled down the comforter from the bed and lied it over Leon’s nude form, settling in for a long night. 

“Gotta say,” he mumbled mainly to himself, but a little to Leon as well. “Of all the I’ve had dreams of you naked against me, it never really did happen like this.”

Leon didn’t respond, just slept on, breathing evenly. Chris sighed and let his head thunk against the wall behind him, and thanked god for his line of work that had given him the innate ability to fall asleep literally anywhere if need be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A'IGHT SO TRUST ME Y'ALL I'VE SEEN DAMNATION LIKE 50 FUCKING TIMES I KNOW THE CLIP AT THE END OF THE CREDITS ABOUT BUDDY
> 
> also i feel super bad cause like the chapter after this one is like 17k and i can't feasibly split it anywhere so my b

Chris wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up, but he knew it had to be late in the day with the way the sun was blaring into his eyes and how hungry he felt. A glance above showed the IV was nearly empty and that his grip on Leon’s wrist was still firm, though the needle was no longer in the skin. Chris frowned and wondered what had woken him up until he felt a damning shift on his own (thankfully soft) cock and followed the line of Leon’s arm up to his face to see Leon watching him with a guarded expression, eyes clear and perceptive in a way they hadn’t been since Chris had come to Italy. 

“Wanna tell me why I’m naked, Redfield?” Leon asked, voice gravelly and dangerous. “Or should I just cut your balls off now while I have you pinned?”

“I would never fucking do that and you know it, Kennedy,” Chris snapped, annoyed at being awoken so suddenly, and then being accused of something so awful. “You pinned me yourself in some sort of weird feverish state and I had to take sure you didn’t get hurt. Don’t fucking flatter yourself.”

Leon sneered. He had the blanket in his grip, wrapped around his torso and bunched up around his chest like a strapless dress. His head was ducked as if he was shy, straddling Chris’s waist. Chris honestly didn’t blame him for making the conclusion he had, but it still pissed him off. Still, he needed to remember who Leon was and what Leon had been through. 

“Do you remember yesterday?” he asked cautiously, hoping not to trigger anything.

“You mean Agapito tearing my clothes off and getting between my legs?” Chris flinched at how bluntly Leon said it, but Leon barely looked bothered. “Of course I remember,” Leon said. “What I also remember is you coming when I called for it, not a moment too soon.” Leon was still hiding behind his hair. Never before had Chris hated Leon’s hair until now. “Thank you,” Leon told him. “For coming. I didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to distract you, but you came anyways.” Leon sighed. “You said you got it?”

“I did,” Chris confirmed, blown away by the gratitude he hadn’t expected to receive. “I got everything, all the addresses. They’re on your computer.”

Leon nodded and started to stand. Before Chris could think better of it, he took Leon’s hip through the cover to hold him fast. “You shouldn’t,” he told the other man. “Your head could still be bad.”

“I feel fine,” Leon snapped. “Let me go.”

Chris held his hands up in surrender and Leon stood, legs a little wobbly but holding him up. Chris realized Leon been the one to pull the IV needle from his own arm, which was good, because it suggested that Leon had enough motor control to manage that. “I’ll check out the addresses,” Leon told him. “Get ready. We’re leaving soon.”

“Don’t you want breakfast?” Chris asked. “You fucking love breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Chris paused. “… Leon, we gotta talk about your eating issue.”

_”I’m not hungry.”_

One side effect of extreme grief was the lack of drive for basic need fulfillment. People would go without eating for days, they’d neglect hygiene and necessities, they’d just sleep for weeks on end. Leon wasn’t sleeping like the dead, though, and he was taking his showers and caring for himself aesthetically, if only because it was necessary. But he wasn’t fucking eating and Chris knew that was bad. 

“You don’t understand,” Chris said, trying to reason with a logical side of Leon. “I need to be able to trust that you have my back. If you’re not eating right and you’re not keeping yourself up to par, then I can’t be confident you’re able to watch my back like I need to. So if you don’t eat, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to pull the plug on my half of this operation and insist we don’t do anything until you’re acting like an agent again.”

“Why the fuck do you care?” Leon asked with a sneer. “If you’re that eager to go, then just do it. Leave me. I can do this myself.”

Chris did not believe that for a minute. “Just eat something, Leon,” Chris pleaded gently. “I care because I know what you’re feeling. I know what you’re going through. Neglecting yourself isn’t going to help you do what you need to do for closure.”

“Shut up,” Leon said. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”

“I buried my parents, Leon.”

“I didn’t bury Sherry,” Leon argued.

“You’re right,” Chris agreed. “There was nothing to bury, it was closed casket. And I have no idea how difficult that must be, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve experienced loss the same as this and that I know what you’re doing to yourself is wrong.”

“You’ve never experienced this,” Leon argued.

“Can you go without being a douchebag for one minute? I’m a fucking orphan, Leon, I have been for most of my life.”

“You didn’t go through what I did.”

“You self righteous piece of—”

“There was no body,” Leon interrupted. “But there was a fucking head.”

Chris paused, anger dying swiftly in the wake of confusion. “What?”

“Her head,” Leon said. “Sherry’s head. That was all I had of her.”

Chris didn’t understand. “You— how did you only find her head?”

“I didn’t find it,” Leon told him. “They sent her head to me.”

Chris paled as he realized he was only able to scratch the surface of what had happened. 

Leon went to a duffel bag that was on the dresser top, pulling it open and taking out some articles of clothing. Leon dropped the blanket suddenly, exposing his bare back and ass to Chris, a stark difference to how he’d been hiding himself before. Chris cleared his throat and looked away, studiously looking anywhere else but the other agent because the temptation was more than fucking real. Leon said they’d sent him Sherry’s head. How the fuck—

“Are you seriously looking away?”

Chris grit his teeth and still didn’t look.

“Huh,” Leon said. “Waking up naked on top of you made me think you wanna fuck me.”

Fuck, Chris felt guilty as hell now. And the way Leon spat the word “fuck” sounded alarmingly like a slur. Chris didn’t know if it was meant for him or Leon. “Why would I want that?” he asked, trying to cover up the fact that he had several reasons why he would and all of them were staring him down.

“Seems like that’s all anyone wants of me right now.”

Agapito’s name hung between them, unspoken but ever present. 

“Asshole,” Leon said after Chris failed to speak. “If I disgust you that much, then I’ll get dressed in the fucking bathroom. Save you from having to look at me for any longer.” 

The sound of the door being slammed shut was the only warning Chris got for Leon having left. Chris grimaced, feeling like shit, wishing he could tell Leon he was anything but disgusting. Leon was all over the place with his reactions and emotions, unpredictable in his mourning. Or maybe he wasn’t mourning at all. Maybe he wasn’t letting himself. Chris didn’t like the closed door between them, instincts telling him not to leave Leon alone. But he couldn’t do anything about it without making things worse between them. Chris sighed and stood and went to the kitchen. Maybe if he made Leon something to eat, the man would give in to his body’s needs.

. . .

They set out. 

Leon ate a little of the toast and butter Chris had managed to make from the bare basics in the apartment, and it had seemed almost like an extension of peace between them when Leon had taken his first bite. Leon was looking a little better. He’d showered again and he was wearing common clothes, a button up and jeans and carrying a bulletproof vest in his free hand. He had pouches buckled to his legs, a sidearm holster on his belt with the shirt pulled down to conceal it. He was ready for shit to go down, so Chris had taken that as a sign to get ready for a war as well. 

Wearing his BSAA gear always felt leagues more like his own skin than any set of civilian clothes, even if he kept it low-key for the long drive. Coming out of the bedroom to where Leon was munching that slice of toast had brought something like a relief. Leon’s eyes had lingered on Chris, but then he’d cut his gaze away, expression indecipherable. 

Out of the thirty-seven addresses Chris had taken in the single shot, Leon had been able to easily pinpoint the right one. A rundown old manor, tucked away in the hills at the edge of the Lucerne Lake, harmless and reportedly for sale along with thirty acres of land, though the sale price was disgustingly low for the location and land itself, and yet it had been on the market for over three years. Leon had plugged in the address into his Rockwell GPS and told Chris that they were leaving before Chris had been able to suggest Leon eat a little more than just a slice of toast.

Now they were in a jeep, something more comfortable for a long trip than the flashy sports car they’d taken to the disaster party last night. Leon was in the passenger seat. He hadn’t even tried to lay claim to the wheel, which was an alarming fact in itself. Leon was slouched in the seat beside him, quiet and unreadable. Chris could rarely read Leon on the best of days, but this time it was only made worse by his urgent need to be able to understand what Leon was thinking. Maybe… 

Maybe that extension of trust would have to come for him. Looked like Chris was going to have to reach out in the only way he could do anything— with blunt force.

“The DSO and BSAA have you on a kind of suicide watch,” he told Leon, ignoring how abrupt it was. Leon sat up straight and frowned at Chris. “They said that when they found you in your apartment, you were in a state that was, well, concerning. So one of the main reasons that they sent me was because they feel like I’m someone who can handle whatever’s wrong and can even influence you positively.”

“… That’s not why,” Leon said after a thought. “They sent you because they need you to pick up where I leave off if I kill myself.”

Chris winced. Leon really was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. “Honestly, I was thinking that too. But I like to think I’m here for the reasons I first gave. Maybe to them I’m a contingency plan, but that’s not my personal motive in being here. I’m here to help. Or at least try.”

Leon looked away again. “Bunch of assholes,” he said. “All of them.”

Chris nodded. “But not me, right?”

“You’re the biggest asshole of them all.”

Oddly enough, Chris didn’t believe Leon actually thought that. He was going to keep talking when Leon suddenly said, “I don’t mean to not eat.” Chris paused and glanced to where Leon was still slumped in the passenger seat. His knee was up on the dashboard, his torso laid across the bottom and lower part of the seatback, looking exhausted. His leather jacket— same as the one he’d worn in New York— was lied across his chest like a blanket. The car wasn’t cold, but Chris knew malnourishment tended to weaken the body’s ability to keep its temperature. 

“I really don’t,” Leon continued. “I don’t mean to be so fucking stupid, but I just don’t feel hungry with where my head’s at. It’s like when I’m on an assignment. When I’m upset or focused, everything just— shuts down. And I just don’t eat. But it’s not because I want to die. I promise that’s not it. So the suicide watch is bullshit, okay? If I’m gonna kill myself, I’ll be a lot more efficient.”

Chris fucking hated that. “I’d prefer you just not die.”

Leon snorted a laugh, shifting in his seat. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

Leon hadn’t called him Boss since New York. It felt oddly more like a nickname than a title. “I rely on you,” Chris said, figuring they were playing some sort of trade. Chris would give a truth, then Leon, then Chris, and so on and so forth. “The reason why I’m able to do all of the crazy shit I do— hand to hand combat with comic book villains and jumping from flaming buildings— I’m able to take these leaps of faith because I know that, if I fall, you’ll be there to pick up where I left off. I rely on you staying alive so I can be ready to die if I have to. And I— I like to think you think the same. Or I want you to know that you can. If you fall, I’ll be here. If I fall, you’ll be here. We’re each other’s failsafe. That’s why I came. They told me they had you on a suicide watch and I couldn’t let you die. I needed to know that the world can still be saved if I’m gone.”

“No pressure,” Leon murmured.

“No pressure,” Chris echoed softly. “I didn’t tell you that to make you feel guilty. I told you that so you don’t have to take the weight of the world on your shoulders. If you fall, I’ll be here.”

Leon was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I worry I’ll make the wrong decision,” He confessed softly. “And the anxiety of that makes me sick. Like this one time, I was in this fucking disaster of a pharmaceutical facility, right? WilPharma, of all places. And this guy got the G-virus and he infected himself, made himself a weapon to get the government to own up with what they did with Umbrella. So the facility was doing this thing where it would drop different wings of the building into this pit to be incinerated to get rid of the virus. Well, I got tossed onto one of the rooms that was about to fall. And I couldn’t make the easy jump because the G-virus fucker was there. So I turned and I ran across the whole thing and just barely made it to the next room, the first one dropping as I made the leap.”

Leon paused. “I thought about that moment a lot,” he told Chris. “Afterwards. I thought about what would have happened if I hadn’t made my decision fast enough, if I hadn’t run quickly enough, if I hadn’t made the right decision at all. Everything would have ended in that moment. I would have dropped two thousand feet and been broken into pieces upon impact. I would have been burned to nothing. And then, every person that I ever would have saved after that moment— gone. I wouldn’t have been there. They’d’ve died. I wouldn’t have fixed anything.” Leon was quiet for another moment. “That was what I used to think. Now I just think back on how I survived that place and telling myself that if I had actually died there, Sherry would still be alive.”

Chris was horrifically out of his depth and he didn’t know what he could do to help except— “I admire you.” When Leon looked to him with sharply, Chris knew he had to explain. “I admire you and everything you’ve done,” Chris said firmly. “The way you stare fear in the face and tell it to fuck off. How you always think quick on your feet and make the right decision. How you haven’t changed since you were a cop. Everything you do is to protect and serve. I just— I admire your drive and I admire how you keep going, even when you feel like you can’t.” Chris shrugged, ran a hand over his face, almost ashamed to be revealing so much. He could feel Leon staring at him in gentle shock, and those eyes seared Chris’s skin. “You blame yourself for Sherry. Leon, if you hadn’t survived that leap, Sherry would have died long before this, along with everyone else on the planet.”

He knew that wasn’t a preferable outcome, but it seemed like it was better than nothing. Leon still stared, completely unreadable. Then, “I’ve always admired you too.”

Chris snorted a laugh. “No way,” he said, incredulous. “You said it yourself, we can’t save anyone, right? Well _I_ can’t save anyone. All of my men die. I’m a death sentence. People who get assigned to me know they’re dead men walking and they act the part. I’m— I’m nothing to admire. Someone like you can’t admire someone like me.”

“Too bad,” Leon replied with a shrug of his lips. “I do.” Chris was having a hard time keeping his eyes on the road, too tempted to try and read Leon’s expressions. “You’re strong. You’re resilient. You’ve seen as much as I have and yet you don’t ever feel like it’s all pointless. I wish I was able to be as steadfast and stubborn as you. I wish I could feel something other than hopeless and tired. I’ve admired you for years, Redfield, ever since Claire told me about how amazing her big brother is. I’d even go as far to say that I wish I could be more like you.”

Chris was speechless. Leon looked uncomfortable. “Your turn,” he said. 

Chris had to wrack his brain for something to say. He kept looking to Leon, to the man stretched out across the seat. Leon kept moving around like he was trying to get more comfortable. Was he— “Are you still hurting?”

“My head’s fine, Redfield, fuck off.”

“I wasn’t talking about your head,” Chris replied. “I, uh. When I came in…”

When Chris trailed off, Leon sighed heavily through his nose. “I told you, he didn’t get that far,” Leon said. “He got my clothes off, got between my legs, sure, but he didn’t get the chance to fuck me.”

Chris hated how Leon was talking about the attempted rape so fucking casually. “He, he left scratches. And it wasn’t fucking,” Chris said, deciding he would focus on that. “Rape isn’t fucking, Leon.”

“Thanks, Boss,” Leon griped. “Glad to know you’re the expert.”

Chris bit his lip. “I’m bi,” he said, hearing his own confession like a gunshot. Leon’s head snapped to him again, eyes wider than before. “I’ve been with men,” Chris continued, ignoring the way Leon was looking at him. “So I just want you to know that what Agapito was doing— it’s not like that. If you were ever with a man, someone who cared about you or at least wasn’t a piece of shit, it wouldn’t be like that.”

“… Huh,” Leon said after a long pause. “I guess you really are the expert.”

Chris winced. “Something like that.”

“You think it wouldn’t be like Agapito,” Leon said. “I don’t know if I agree with that.”

“Why not?” Chris asked with a frown. “You should know who’s safe and who’s not.”

“I tend to bring out the worst in everyone,” Leon said. 

“I mean…” Chris wasn’t sure what he was trying to argue here, but he would try regardless. “I just think you deserve better than average, okay? And Agapito was a fucking stain on the human race. It would never be like that if you were with someone you did trust, someone like, uh…” 

Chris didn’t know who he could list so he was startled when Leon said, “You?”

“Oh jesus, uh, no,” Chris sputtered, desperate to cover up and keep Leon from figuring him out. “I just, uh, that wouldn’t work, you know? We’re too different.”

“Rebecca seemed to think otherwise,” Leon murmured. Chris chanced a look to see Leon was hiding from him behind his hair. Fuck, he’d fucked up. Chris struggled to find some way to save this, but failed. “I’ve thought about it. Being with another man.” At Chris’s noise of surprise, Leon let out a sardonic chuckle. “What, you think I can’t? You’re fucking Chris ‘steroids-for-breakfast’ Redfield, if anyone should be scoffing at the other having a gay thought once in a while, it’s me. You bat all stereotypes to the wind, Agent.”

Chris swallowed hard, his hands feeling clammy on the steering wheel. “Who was it?”

“You don’t know him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He’s dead.”

Chris really was shoving his foot in his mouth today. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Leon replied. “It went like all of this shit usually does. His name was Alexander, some called him Sasha, most called him Buddy. He was a freedom fighter in the Eastern Slavic Republic. He was actually one of the first to ever use the Plaga to control Lickers. You probably read about it.”

Chris nodded. He remembered the classified report, the stoic detachment the DSO used when they were trying to keep as many secrets as they could. It was relevant to what Chris and Leon were doing now. “I did.”

“But you didn’t read about him.”

“No.”

“Figures.” Leon squirmed in his seat again, letting out a little noise. Chris didn’t know if he was hurting or not. “He was brave. Strong. Pretty fucking stupid, too, but most of us are. He was originally paranoid of me, then he straight out tried to kill me with his licker controlling bullshit. But then Tyrants popped out of the fucking ground and— well, nothing like a common enemy to make you some new friends.”

“What happened to him?”

“The thing about the Plaga strain that allowed the master-slave relationship was that it killed the master,” Leon explained. “Gradually, from the inside out, turning the master in slow motion. He was dying the second he injected that shit into himself in the name of avenging his dead fiancée.”

“Shit,” Chris said. “Rule number one, Leon— never fall for the straight guy.” Chris had a habit of breaking his own rules.

“You’d think,” Leon snorted. “Pretty sure it didn’t matter at that point. I never even realized it until we were facing down Tyrant number one of three. The thing had me in its grip. Buddy had no reason to do anything except cut and run, and yet— right when it’s starting to really feel like I’m dying, when the fucking thing is about to drive its nails into my face, a licker comes out of nowhere and claws the Tyrant’s head. I get dropped, I get out of there, recollect. Buddy comes in with a fucking tank, drives that thing down, screaming like a wild man, not an ounce of fear in him, only rage. And as he rams that fucking Tyrant and goes past me, I run to get in the back of the tank and bring the cannon around and we take off the fucker’s head. Fight’s over, Buddy’s crawling out, I offer him a hand and a beer and in that moment, I just… Had this thought.”

When Leon trailed off, Chris cleared his throat. “You don’t have to keep talking about this if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not a happy story, Chris.”

“Pretty sure you and I don’t have a single happy story to our names.”

Leon nodded. “I offered my hand and beers and I remember this intrusive thought just wiggling its way into my head. That Buddy was someone I could trust. Someone I wanted to be friends with. Someone that I could put my life in the hands of and not be afraid.”

Chris nodded. “Brothers in arms.”

“That’s what I thought,” Leon said. “Until I really fucking looked at him and realized that I’d definitely let that man pin me to a bed and fuck the adrenaline right out of my bones.”

Chris choked on his own tongue and flexed his hands on the wheel, thrown off by Leon’s voice talking about such things so bluntly. He heard a soft sound, almost musical, and realized that Leon was laughing at him. “What, you really think I’m some choir boy that hasn’t had a dirty thought in my life?”

“No,” Chris denied. “I just really did think you were straighter than an arrow.”

“It’s not like it happened,” Leon said, the laugher dying away immediately. “And it’s one thing to think about it and another to go through with it. He was gone before it could be anything more than some passing thought. But I thought about it after and it felt— it was stupid. I try not to think about the people who are gone. Especially not like that.”

Chris could understand that. “What happened?”

“He was gonna turn,” Leon murmured. “He had his gun to his head. I took it from him, told him suicide from our own gun isn’t an option for people like us, and then shot him myself.”

“… I’m sorry, Leon.”

“Why?” Leon asked. “I was doing my job. That’s all we’re meant to do. What we survive to do. It’s not like I was in love with him. And he was using the Plaga for selfish reasons. He was a bad guy. I was stupid to fall for him at all.”

Chris bit his lip, trying to figure out how to save this. Learning that Leon had once had an interest in another man was opening some floodgates that Chris would prefer to stay shut. He couldn’t afford something as dumb as hope in the life he lived. “I wanted to fuck Albert Wesker.”

Leon seemed to process this slowly. “You mean the guy who wanted to turn the world into a race of super-humans and be the new god?”

“Yes,” Chris affirmed. “But before that. When he was the leader of S.T.A.R.S., back in Raccoon City. He was my leader and my mentor and the man I looked up to and I definitely had to keep my eyes to myself in the communal showers after a mission.”

Leon was quiet for a moment. “He was thirteen years older than you.”

“I tell you I wanted to fuck one of the most dangerous and insane men in our lifetimes and you get hung up on the age difference?”

“You’re the BSAA’s golden boy, they would have been horrified to know you wanted to bend over for Albert fucking Wesker and make him a cradle robber.”

Chris frowned. The was the second time Leon had called him that. “I’m the golden boy?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

There was another pause. “I’m scared of a lot of the shit we fight,” Leon said, seeming to go on with their game. “Like, holy fuck, have you seen what the G-virus does? And those fucking lickers. You said I’m brave— sorry to disappoint. It’s been over two decades and I still have fucking nightmares.”

Chris managed a shaky laugh. “Honestly, so do I. How the fuck am I supposed to get used to the idea of people turning into monsters that literally tear out your guts? And fucking Tyrants, man, they’re the worst. They don’t have expressions, you know? It’s some uncanny valley bullshit.”

“And what about just the regular fucking bad guys?” Leon posited, sounding almost like he was smiling. “Like what the fuck? Do they all think this is some Japanese video game and that they need to be so over the top? I’m so tired of speeches and shit. They’re all just so fucking dumb. So fucking full of themselves. Every rant is really just a complicated way to jack themselves off.”

“Sometimes I think about how I’d be a better villain,” Chris replied, grinning. “I’ve seen so many of them, you know? I’d know how to avoid all of their dumb mistakes. Don’t kidnap anyone without killing them immediately once their use is up, no using bombs that have a timer longer than thirty seconds, no exterior help as far as I can make it, and never _ever_ go after the family of the hero, cause then there’s hell to pay.”

Leon was dead silent.

Chris realized what he’d just said. “Shit,” Chris mumbled, twisting his hand on the wheel. “I’m sorry—”

“They sent me Sherry’s head in a box.”

Chris tore his eyes from the road to look to Leon, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. Leon was staring straight ahead, watching green hills roll by as they continued to drive through this peaceful, scenic country.

“I’d ordered shoes,” Leon said. “Asics Gel Cumulus 20s— running shoes. They came in a box, just a random fucking box, looked completely normal and passed all the regular paranoid screening that the DSO does for all my mail. I remember being excited. Eager. I was thinking about trying them out the next morning, even considering breaking routine and going for a run that night instead, just to get a feel for them, wear them down. I open up the box, push aside packing peanuts that probably shouldn’t have been there if it really were a pair of shoes, grazed something like skin with my fingertips, and there were Sherry’s eyes, staring back up at me. They were— not as blue as I remembered them being. Colder. Less. And her hair was shorter. And her lips were pale and she wasn’t yelling at me about my drinking problem or laughing at my stupid lines. And then I— I lifted her from the box and there was dried blood at the bottom of her neck where there was bone and muscle and I—”

Leon cut himself off. Chris felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“… I don’t remember anything after that,” Leon confessed. “I only know what happened after because they told me. I failed my routine check ins, didn’t respond to Hannigan when I was supposed to, so they sent people to check on me four days after I went dark. They said they found me sitting on the floor, holding Sherry’s head.” Leon paused. “I overheard Hannigan talking to the doctors while I was getting shot up with all kinds of shit to bring me back to life. Apparently, the people who found me chose to describe what I looked like as— as a man trying to hold his child. One last time. Hoping that maybe I could bring the warmth back. Hoping that I could bring _her_ back.”

Chris shook his head, hating this reality, blinking rapidly against the emotions attempting to strangle him. Leon sounded so empty. “You weren’t trying to die,” was all Chris could say.

“I wasn’t,” Leon confirmed. “I just— lost myself. And forgot to live.”

“For four days,” Chris whispered, picturing it and despising what his mind created. Leon Kennedy, the man who’d saved the world just as many times as Chris, tall and formidable and stone cold in the face of death. Sitting on the floor, holding the severed head of his daughter to his chest, eyes far away and as dead as the things they killed. “God, Leon,” Chris choked out. “I’m so— I’m so sorry. I don’t have the words for how sorry I am.”

“Funny,” Leon mumbled. “Neither do I.”

“Leon, this was _not_ your fault.”

“There was a note in the box,” Leon told him. “I never found it myself because I basically went comatose then and there, but the operatives sent to check on me did. A scrap of paper with the symbol of _Los Iluminados_ on the top and the words ‘cut off one head’ at the bottom.”

“Cut off one head,” Chris said. “And another grows back.”

“Hydra, I guess,” Leon said. “But that’s a little more intelligent than I like to give them credit for. I know what they meant. I take down one insane group of people wanting to use BOWs for mass murder, and another pops right up in its stead. There’s no end to it. There’s just no end. We can’t save anyone” Chris still didn’t know what he could say. Leon sighed. “That was a little over a week ago.”

Chris would’ve swerved if he didn’t have such good control of his emotions when needed. “You found her head only over a week ago and you’re on an assignment?” Chris asked, horrified. “Leon, this is not something you should be doing. Not right now.”

“You can’t stop me,” Leon said stubbornly. “DSO knew they couldn’t so they didn’t even try. Neither should you. I’m taking down the last of Los Iluminados so they never hurt anyone ever again. I’m doing the world a fucking favor, Redfield, finishing what I started, so don’t you dare try and tell me I’m not doing the right thing. You’re the one who told me I can’t drown my misery in a bottle.”

This wasn’t like that. Chris wanted to take Leon by the shoulders and scream until Leon understood. Losing Sherry the way Leon had wasn’t the same as New York. Chris had been saying shit to get what he’d wanted, he’d never meant to make Leon feel like Chris had been condemning him. If Leon wanted to drink to cope, then so be it. Anything was preferable to the loss of self Leon had experienced, comatose on the floor, clutching a severed head and dreaming of a voice he’d never heard again. 

Chris had seen a lot of shit in his lifetime, but he hadn’t seen anything like that. Never come close to experiencing it himself, not really. His trip with amnesia had been beyond his control, more medical than genuinely traumatic, it hadn’t been falling away from himself. To know that Leon had, that Leon had shattered for that moment, become a shell of himself and almost ceased to exist— to know that one of the strongest men Chris had ever met had crumbled so completely— it was terrifying. It was heartbreaking. It was a warning.

Leon cleared his throat. “Mind if I skip your turn?”

“Sure,” Chris said, voice cracking at the end.

“I fucking love breakfast.”

Somehow, Chris was able to smile, though it was a wretched thing. “I already know that.”

“Yeah, but you don’t know the intimacy of it.”

“The intimacy of breakfast?”

Leon nodded and sat up a little straighter in the seat, the leather jacket falling from his shoulders, ending the illusion of the shattered man slumped beside Chris. “Breakfast is a sacred thing,” Leon said. “From all over the world, the style and type of breakfast ranges so vastly that it’s become a cultural statement more than just a meal. To know the breakfast of a country is to know the country and its ideals. It’s important. It’s vital. It’s fucking art, Redfield.”

Chris snorted to cover up his strained voice. “Sure thing, Kennedy.”

“Shut up, heathen, listen to my words.” Leon sat up even straighter, his spine finally in a healthy position, hands up and moving, expression alert. Chris was actually watching a man compartmentalize into denial to cope. And for breakfast, of all things. Chris was struck with a wave of fondness for the man beside him. “All across the world, we have families falling apart, pulling away, being swept up in the monotony of the basic nine-to-five. Parents work late, kids study hard, everyone forgets what it was like to have dinner together. Lunch isn’t even at home most of the time, and weekends are meant to be spent outside, doing shit. All people have these days are those sacred breakfasts together, in the early hours of the morning, pancakes and waffles and eggs and sausage and everything that really matters in this world. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Redfield, and don’t you dare forget it.”

“My favorite breakfast food is the eggs,” Chris told him, feeling like he should contribute just a little for having his turn skipped. “Sunny side up, love dipping some toast in the yolk.”

“Really?” Leon seemed surprised. “That’s my favorite too.”

Well fuck Chris, then, maybe Rebecca was right— maybe he and Leon had a lot more in common than Chris had thought. Then again, it wasn’t like Chris had any reason to be surprised. He’d never bothered to get to know the other agent before.

Leon stared out the window a moment. “Breakfast is important. And honestly, man?” He sighed. “I’m fucking starving.”

Chris lit up with the words and put his attention to his phone, using that GPS to find them _anywhere_ to get some food, hopefully even breakfast, even though it was just pushing into noon. “I’ve got this,” he said as options came up. The closest one that seemed to be good enough to be deserving of Leon Kennedy was this place called Hotel Hofgarten restaurant in the city of Lucerne— just thirty minutes away at this point. “I got this,” he said again, grinning to himself and unable to deny the well of joy and relief that was overcoming him. 

Somehow, Chris had gotten through to Leon. And somehow, not only was Leon beginning to open up to him, but he was beginning to act like _himself._ The Leon only Claire and Sherry knew, the man behind the badge and the gun, the man Chris had always wanted to know. He was finally getting to see the side of Leon few even knew of and Chris couldn’t help but be over the moon, regardless of the circumstances. The image of Leon slumped in his home, cradling Sherry’s head— that would never leave him. And it would never leave Leon either. But at least they had this. 

Thirty minutes later found Leon and Chris bent over a wooden table in front of a red and white paneled hotel, cobblestone beneath their feet, an umbrella over their head, and a feast for five men splayed out in front of them. Leon had whipped out a Alemannic Swiss German dictionary and had haltingly asked for a table and breakfast and when the server had carefully explained to him that they didn’t normally serve breakfast after ten, Leon had basically bartered his way into paying three times the amount normally paid for the most expensive meals in this place, and now Chris was stuffing himself with eggs, sunny side up out of a skillet that was loaded with cheese, sliced potatoes, sausage, and bacon. 

He wanted to thank Leon’s aggressive puppy eyes and ability to look like the most vulnerable of children when begging for the breakfast in front of him. Leon was eating much more than just that dismal slice of toast from this morning, and Chris couldn’t be happier. Their food was consumed quickly and Chris was on the last of his share of the sliced fruit when Leon caught his attention.

“Gimme your plate,” Leon said. Chris grabbed his empty plate and held it up for Leon, curious as to what he wanted. When Leon lifted his own plate and pushed the last two of his sunny side up eggs onto Chris’s dish, Chris’s eyes went wide. “There you go,” Leon said before returning to his skillet. 

Chris lowered his plate hesitantly. “Can I ask why?”

Leon shrugged. “They’re your favorite.”

“They’re your favorite too.”

Leon looked up at Chris with a dry expression and an arched brow. “Should I take them back?”

Chris tugged the plate to his chest. He was never going to turn down the energy-giving sustenance that was an egg. They were about to descend into hell guns blazing tonight too, Chris wanted his possibly last meal on earth to be a damn good one. Chris started to shovel the eggs into his mouth and was about to thank Leon through a mouthful when he saw Leon was looking at him with the tiniest, yet most sincere smile Chris had ever seen on the man. Chris’s heart treacherously skipped a beat and his cheeks flushed. “What?” he asked, words garbled by the food.

“Nothing,” Leon said, still smiling at Chris like Chris actually meant something to him. “You’re a messy eater.” Then Leon was reaching towards him and Chris felt the soft pad of the other man’s thumb on his cheek, brushing away crumbs. Leon’s eyes went wide halfway through pulling his hand back. “I mean.” Leon froze like a deer in the headlights. “Sorry. About touching you.”

“It’s fine,” Chris said with his cheeks full, feeling insanely unattractive in that moment and effectively out of his depth. Leon brought his hand back to his side and didn’t look at Chris again. Chris honestly lamented the loss of that smile, though. The tiny little thing that had seemed more intimate and meaningful than any other smile Chris had ever received from anyone. And the last thing Chris wanted was for Leon to think Chris thought he was weird for doing what he’d done, so—

“Hold on,” Chris said, getting some hollandaise sauce on his finger and dragging it on his chin. “Did I get it?”

Leon looked over to him and choked loudly on something, covering his mouth and letting his hair fall in front of his face as his shoulders shook. For a moment Chris thought he’d have to do the Heimlich until Leon looked back up again and Chris saw he was laughing. “You absolute—” Leon cut himself off when Chris swiped his still-dirty finger over Leon’s nose. Leon blinked slowly, then looked up at Chris, squinting. “Did you really just do that?”

Chris went back to his eggs with an innocent little quirk of his lips. “What would you do if I did?”

“I’d shoot you,” Leon deadpanned. “Right between the eyes. No one would find the body.”

“Pretty sure Claire would kill you,” Chris argued.

“She’d be doing me a favor.”

Chris clammed up, the light hearted air dying between them as Leon’s eyes went dead again. “Ah, shit,” Leon sighed. “There I go, fucking everything up again.”

“Leon—” Chris began, but the other man cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Doesn’t matter,” Leon said. “It doesn’t. Let’s just forget I said that.”

“Kinda hard to forget, man.”

“Try anyways,” Leon ordered as he used a napkin to clean off the mess on his nose. “I’m gonna settle the tab. Meet you in the jeep.”

The mirth from their meal was gone, and even as Leon walked away to the stewardess, Chris _watched_ Leon’s movements and mindset switch from a civilian having breakfast to a soldier readying for war. Chris sat up straight and steeled his shoulders, knowing that this small moment of humanity they had shared changed nothing. Leon wasn’t anything to him and Leon wasn’t in any sort of place for Chris to even try for more. Leon touching him like that— a fluke. A remnant of fatherly instincts that Leon was slowly destroying within himself to mourn Sherry. Chris was just the person who happened to be here. It meant nothing.

Chris stood from the table and threw the napkin onto the chair after cleaning up, inexplicably angry with the way the world had decided to line up his cards and how they always seemed to be opposite of Leon’s. But even then, Chris found himself filing away a personal endeavor; a want versus need. He _needed_ to see Leon smile like that again, even if it wasn’t for him. 

When Leon joined him in the jeep, neither of them spoke for the last three hours it took to reach the rendezvous.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here's this 19k disaster i warned y'all about not sure how it happened but here it is the aftermath of fucking something
> 
> i'm not very good at writing action??? in the sense that i haven't written it a lot and it relies heavily on descriptions of surroundings which is my kryptonite. but i did my best :P let's hope it doesn't fall flat on its face
> 
> also this is the chap that deals heavily with the attempted suicide tag. it's not like the regular motives for suicide but i still gotta warn y'all! be safe <3
> 
> one chap after this then i'm slamming right into my next RE fic and i'm excited XD

Silver Dagger’s D.C. and Nadia were a sight for sore eyes. After spending so long with Kennedy, who was up and down with Chris’s entire existence in general, the easy camaraderie with D.C. and Nadia was a much-needed break in Chris’s stress. But the reason why they had come together wasn’t going to help his plight in any way. 

They were set up just beyond the property line, D.C. already having done a sweep and choosing this spot in particular because there was a steep hill between them and the property that created a blind spot for their helicopter to hide within. The helicopter was parked to the side, down a strip of grass that D.C. had apparently been skilled enough to land on. 

For now they were all in the back, sitting across from each other on the benches, waiting for Leon to start a necessary debrief of the plan. This was his rodeo, he was the one in charge, unlike last time. Chris was only prepared to throw in a word of his own if he thought part of the plan was going to involve something that would get his men killed. Leon almost always did his shit solo. Even in New York, Leon had widely worked as a lone wolf, functioning his best when he didn’t have to worry about anyone else. It was why Leon was one of _the best_ — but why he was rarely given teams.

Chris grimaced and threaded his fingers together as Leon strode forward with a map. He remembered Leon talking about the unit he’d lost in Virginia and wondered if Leon was nervous to take lead of a squad again, even one as small as this. It wasn’t like Chris was one to talk. He was enough of a fuckup to be able to get three people killed, easily. Why couldn’t Leon?

“The plan is simple,” Leon said. “Redfield and I are going to take the brunt of the work. _Los Iluminados_ loves their traps and cheap tricks, and I don’t want anyone in there that doesn’t need to be. Chris and I will be escaping via the roof— Nadia and D.C. hover up top and give ground support with the gatling. Don’t let anything get out of this place and don’t let any of the reinforcements filter in. They won’t have much in the way of manpower, but I still don’t want anyone else getting the jump on us once Chris and I are inside.”

Chris’s shoulders sagged in relief while D.C. and Nadia nodded firmly. “Got it, chief,” Nadia said as D.C. glanced over to the cockpit, glancing over the dials and gauges. 

“We’ve got enough gas to keep us in the air until tomorrow morning,” D.C. told them. “Resupply will have to be done out of the country, since Switzerland basically has nothing in the way of military, nor would they cooperate with us if we asked. If you think you’re gonna be in there longer than twelve hours, you tell me ASAP so I can get a refuel and come back, tout suite. ”

“Fucking neutrals,” Nadia grumbled.

“We won’t be more than two hours, and that’s a worse case scenario,” Leon said. “It’s nineteen hundred now, we’re going in at twenty hundred, out at twenty-one hundred if all goes according to plan. This is going to be a quick in and out because Chris and I are going to split up.”

“What?” Chris sat up straight. “No. I’m not okay with that.”

While D.C. and Nadia went wide-eyed at Chris’s insubordination, Leon just scowled. “And why is that, Redfield?”

“We’re not splitting up,” Chris said with a sharp look. He knew he couldn’t explain. Leon’s listing as a suicide-risk, while up for argument, wasn’t something Chris was going to expose to the others without Leon’s explicit consent. “I’m sorry, Agent, but I’m not about to take that kind of risk.”

“It’s more of a risk if we don’t,” Leon snapped, pointing at the map. It was the manor split in half to show the huge basement beneath. Nothing like the multi-level maze of Umbrella or other places Chris had been, but definitely more than the average bomb shelter. Three levels below the ground, the top two filled with what looked like useless supplies, but the third containing what was likely the thing they were after because it was just a huge question mark. Yet Leon was pointing at the top of the manor, above ground.

“They put their shit in two different places,” Leon said. “And we can’t rely on just destroying one. Above ground, they have the virus and their manufacturing facility for the special strain they’ve created. They’ve filled all of these rooms with T and G-virus victims that they’re testing on, reinforcing everything to contain the massive amounts of numbers of infected for the army they’re building. The first two levels of the basement are like a gym course where they test the limit of their control over the infected, and the bottom level is the hive mind. You need to take out the top third level and make sure every bit of their collection of the virus is gone while also setting up the C4 to bring down the roof on these fuckers while I go to the bottom and get rid of the controller.”

“Can’t we do both together?” 

“And cover the same ground twice?” Leon shot back. “Not only putting ourselves at risk, but the success of the mission? Even worse, we could give them enough time to rally against us. The only reason we’re been able to pull this off cleanly so far is because we have the element of surprise. Agapito was a rapist and a necrophiliac with a lot of people wanting him dead outside of his shit with BOWs. _Los Iluminados_ won’t connect his death with any sort of threat to their work— they’ll just think he finally fucked with the wrong people and got himself killed.”

“Wait, what?” D.C. interrupted.

“Rapist and necrophiliac?” Nadia repeated, brow twisted. “Are you guys— what happened?”

“Everything’s fine,” Leon bit out, leaving no room for argument with a sharp glare swept over them all. “My plan is the safest, the most efficient, and foolproof. No one could fuck this up even if they tried. Don’t fucking argue with me, Chris. You’re going upstairs and you’re going to destroy the samples, then plant the C4, and get to the roof. I’ll meet you there after taking out the controller and planting my own charges.”

“You got timers for these charges or are we flying blind?” Chris asked, narrowing his eyes. When Leon held up two timer displays meant for long-range cellphone triggering, though, Chris’s paranoia ebbed. “Guess you really did think this through, huh?”

“We have to destroy the shit,” Leon insisted. “Scorched earth protocol, get rid of fucking everything, all their data. _Los Iluminados_ is greedy, they’re not going to be sharing their findings and research willingly, so if we’re able to destroy it all here, then no one else will get their hands on it. They’re not planning any large attack, they’re not targeting anyone yet, they don’t have their shit available for selling. We’re being proactive, for once, and it’s not the normal way of things. It’s why DSO is unofficially backing me up and why BSAA hasn’t been formally put on this either. We’re doing something out of the ordinary here. I didn’t even have proof that _Los Iluminados_ was up to anything until Agapito. I’m the only intelligence for this assignment. Just do as I say and I can promise you we’ll get this done, quickly and cleanly.”

“I don’t like splitting up,” Chris said again.

“I don’t care,” Leon replied. “If we go one at a time, they’ll try to save whatever we don’t hit first. Not splitting up will be giving them a chance to either keep the information on the controller or to save the samples. We need to take both out in tandem and then bring the roof down.” Leon stared Chris down, eyes dark and deadly. “Do you understand me, Redfield?”

“You got a target I don’t know about?” This was Leon’s revenge, his payback for what Los Iluminados did to Sherry. Chris hadn’t heard anything about killing a particular person who was to blame.

“As far as I’m concerned, I’m cutting off all their heads at once,” Leon said, the phrase triggering a memory that wasn’t even Chris’s. Leon slumped to the floor with a severed hand in his hands. “I don’t have one particular member in mind— to be honest, I don’t even know who’s going to be here. All I know is that this is their last ditch effort to keep their sick cult alive, trying to get funds to keep their shit afloat. They’ve put the last of their resources into this. If we beat them into nothing in this moment, they’ll never rear their ugly heads again. And that’s all I want.”

The conviction in Leon’s tone stirred something in Chris’s chest, remnants of a loyalty he hadn’t felt in years. Back when Chris had first joined S.T.A.R.S., he’d been willing to follow Wesker to the end of the road, to his early grave. That loyalty resurged as Chris stared into Leon’s eyes, saw his will and bravery and determination, the eyes of a soldier that was dead set on getting the job done, no matter what. Chris sat up straight and steeled his jaw, nodding his affirmation, wanting Leon to see the same fortitude reflected back from Chris’s eyes. “You got it, Boss,” he said, knowing the title wouldn’t fall flat between them. Leon’s gaze flashed and he returned the nod. For a moment, Chris felt like Leon was seeing a brother in arms inside of Chris. That Leon was seeing what he’d had with Buddy. They were both willing to put it all on the line in the name of peace and the end of these madmen taking human lives like they meant nothing. 

Chris knew, right then and there, that he would follow Leon to the end of the earth. And the realization was familiar. His loyalty to Leon had always been there, buried deep beneath annoyance and aggression and the strain of being too similar to someone who was too good for him. Those petty excuses fell away and all that was left was Chris’s devotion to Leon and their twin purpose. With this shared allegiance, Chris knew they would save the world again. 

But there was something else, too. A niggling desire, a secondary memory trying to come to the surface. Leon laughing into his hand as Chris smeared his own face with hollandaise sauce and how absolutely beautiful Leon had been in that moment. How Chris had known that, as rare as that laughter and tiny smile of intimacy was, Chris would do anything to see it again.

Shit.

That felt a lot like love, now that Chris thought about it.

He brought his gun into his lap, holding it at the ready, pushing past the harrowing realization he’d just experienced, his sudden understanding of the depth of his complicated feelings for Leon S. Kennedy. “I’m with you, Leon,” he said firmly, wanting to be worth a good soldier in Leon’s eyes if he was doomed to never be anything more. “Lead the way. I’ll follow.”

Leon looked relieved. “Thank you,” he said, the words leaving him with a gust of breath. “I promise, I’m doing this with the survival of you three in mind. Chris, you get to the roof as soon as you get your charges set, okay? I’ll meet you up there and we’ll get on the chopper together and get out of there. But I need you to follow my plan and get rid of everything they have on the viruses, or else I won’t be able to focus on what I have to do. As long as you and I trust each other, nothing will go wrong. This is shoot to kill. We’re not arresting, not showing mercy. We’re making sure nothing like this ever happens again and that’s all I want.”

Chris believed him. “Got it,” he said. “Show me how to set up those charges so I don’t fuck it up at the last minute.”

Leon seemed grateful to be able to move on from the plan to things that would ensure their success. Chris was just happy to know that Leon was trusting him in an area where Chris knew he wouldn’t let Leon down.

. . .

Crouched low in the grass at the top of a slope, staring down at the front of the manor through the scope of his gun, Chris realized he needed to say something to Leon before all of this went down. 

Leon was lying prone beside him, using binoculars to catch the pattern of the two guards that were doing rounds on the property. He was counting softly under his breath, timing the men as best as he could estimate. Chris had already done the same with the two other men that were atop the roof, three stories up, keeping their sights down on the ground. The men, though, tended to stop and chat about whatever militias employed by cultists freaks liked to talk about and Chris knew they wouldn’t have to worry about finding an opening in their rounds. It looked like getting in was going to be the easy part.

“Kennedy,” he murmured, trying to catch Leon’s attention gently. But even for his effort, Leon startled, head snapping to glare at Chris, like he wanted to yell at him for not taking this seriously and figuring out the men above. Chris rolled his eyes and went prone on the ground beside Leon, grunting in discomfort as he laid on his stomach in his heavy gear. He was nearly side to side with Leon like this, sticking close so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice. Leon raised a brow at him, pressing his finger to his lips. 

Jesus christ, those fucking lips. Now that Chris had reached some sort of epiphany concerning the real problem of his feelings for the DSO Agent, Chris found himself more and more enraptured by the smallest of things Leon could do without thought. Those fingerless gloves showing off the pale curve of each digit, his perfect hair acting as a frame for those amazing cheekbones, those long lashes that fluttered like something out of a cheesy romance movie, dark and full and kissing Leon’s skin every time he blinked. Chris wasn’t the kind of guy to be smitten by another person, but he was a bit of a closet romantic. He couldn’t exactly write poetry, but he could definitely list every perfect detail that made him take time to stop and _stare._

And shit, he was absolutely staring.

Leon nudged him sharply with his elbow, mouth a displeased, downturned line. Those fucking pouty lips— even for all of Chris’s romantic tendencies, he was also a warm-blooded male who definitely wanted to know what those lips looked like stretched around his cock of “legendary proportions.” 

Leon hit him with his elbow again, jolting Chris back to the present. He’d joined Leon in the dirt for a reason, after all. 

“We should grab a beer after this,” Chris whispered between them. Both of Leon’s brows shot up, incredulous and disbelieving. “I mean it,” Chris insisted. “It’s a long time coming, right? We should’ve had one after New York. Hell, Lanshiang. Why don’t we just finally bite the bullet and maybe catch a game?”

Leon blinked owlishly at him, like he couldn’t understand. Chris knew what he probably looked like— Claire had once tried to describe to him the earnest, kicked-puppy look he would wear when trying to get someone to do something for him, intentional or not. Chris knew that, even as a six foot tall wall of muscle, he could get anyone to say yes to him if he just pulled on that look. 

“You’re asking this now?” Leon demanded once he was finally able to discern that Chris wasn’t joking. “We’re about to go into a high-risk death mansion full of monsters and you’re asking me about my future plans?”

“Why would that make a difference?” Chris asked with an innocent shrug of his mouth. 

“I’ve already told you, I don’t make plans that far ahead.”

“I was thinking this time tomorrow, Agent Buzzkill.”

Leon pulled on a sour expression, but he didn’t argue. “Just make it out this alive,” he told Chris. “Then see if you _really_ want a beer with me and ask me again.”

Wasn’t exactly the answer Chris had been looking for, but it seemed good enough for now. “I’m counting on you,” Chris said.

“I know,” Leon grumbled. “I promise I won’t fuck everything up again like with Agapito. Get off my ass.”

That— hadn’t been what Chris meant at all. 

“I’m counting on you to look out for yourself, Leon,” Chris told him gently, his voice still low. “We’re splitting up no matter what. I just wanna make sure I’m going to see you again.”

As Chris said those words between them when they were laid side by side, close enough to share air, he caught the moment Leon’s face showed something he knew he hadn’t meant Chris to see. An unending ache, something like the most heartbroken of resignations, dark and cold in his green eyes. It almost looked like Leon wanted to cry. Then the moment was gone, and Leon turned to look at Chris, _their faces so close_ , and gave him a nod. “I’ll do my best, Chris.” The sight of Leon’s lips forming the syllables Chris’s name gave Chris the overpowering urge to kiss him.

“See to it that you do,” Chris whispered, stunned.

Leon looked back through the binoculars. “They both go around to the sides at the same time, meeting at the front and back entrances. We’ll have about thirty seconds to duck in, but we need to time it when they’ve already got their backs turn so we can get down this hill and inside. If we have to take them both out, you take the guy on the right, and I take the guy on the left.”

“Shouldn’t we take them both out now?” Chris asked, slipping easily into soldier-mode. “Wouldn’t want them hearing us wreaking havoc and rushing in when we least want it.”

“The fuckers inside will likely release the T and G-virus victims immediately once they know we’re in,” Leon reasoned. “Even if they don’t have complete control of their monsters, the monsters themselves are an effective first line of defense. Those guards would be stupid to come inside after us, especially once all hell breaks loose. Last count that Hannigan was able to estimate for me was five G-virus infected.”

 _“Five?”_ Chris repeated in a hiss. “How the fuck are they containing that?”

“They likely have some sort of stasis control already managed through the hive mind controller,” Leon told him. “I don’t see any other reason why they would take the risk if they didn’t already have some way to keep them in line. But you know that once we get in there, everything will go to shit.”

Chris nodded. “Think they’ll recognize you?”

“I sure hope not.” Leon put down the binoculars and set them aside on the hill like he didn’t care if he ever saw them again. “No matter what happens,” Leon said. “For the first level, we stick together. The way down for me is in the main kitchen, where one of three dumbwaiter shafts that go down into the first basement level that is called a wine cellar on the sale page for this place. The top level, where you need to go? There’s no access from the main stairwell in the center of the manor. You have to take a ladder in the billiard room up that will bring you into the smoking room of the second floor, where you’ll then cross the hall and get to the secondary landing and take the stairs to the third level.”

“I know, I looked at your maps, Leon, I’ve got this.”

“That doesn't make me feel any better," Leon said. “You always have a knack of blowing everything to hell.”

Chris snorted. “Like you’re one to talk. I’ve always survived, haven’t I?”

Leon grimaced. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I want you to come with me to the dumbwaiter,” he said. “I just— please.”

That didn’t make a lick of sense. If Chris was supposed to be taking the ladder up to the smoking room, there was no reason for him to go to the kitchen, which was on the opposite side of the manor. It was especially stupid since Leon was trying to make this all about quick efficiency, and that they would’ve already triggered an alarm or two, so they would definitely be being pursued by something unsavory at that point. Chris was about to point out how absolutely idiotic that plan was when he actually looked at Leon and saw that same unending _sadness_ that had no place being in Leon’s eyes.

Chris gave him a crooked grin. “Why?” he asked, smothering himself with the cocky confidence he always tried to exude when the people who were depending on him were afraid. “Gonna miss me, Kennedy?”

When Leon looked to him, he didn’t even bother covering up at that sadness. He didn’t say a word. Chris realized that the ache in Leon’s eyes would get anyone to agree to anything way faster than Chris’s own manipulative expressions. The way Leon looked now reminded Chris of when Leon had listened to Patricio’s family beg to hear from the dead man. “I’ll be there,” Chris said, wondering if Leon really was just worried he’d fuck up without Chris there and ruin the plan. “I’ll make sure you get down. I’ve got your back, remember? If you fall, I’m there.”

“If I fall, you’re there,” Leon echoed. “Okay.” He looked back to the manor, then pat himself down, doing a final check for his extra rounds and his two sidearms, the only two guns he’d wanted to bring into this. His normal IMI Desert Eagle Mark XIX, or “Lightning Hawk,” and then— a handgun that Chris had never seen before. A Heckler & Koch CP70M, a gun that Chris was familiar with as far as the make and model, but one he had never seen on Leon’s person. It looked old, worn and obviously well-loved over many years. 

Chris couldn’t deny his curiosity. “What’s that one?” When Leon frowned, Chris knew he had to explain. “You’re normally so picky about the stuff you bring with you, especially on things like this. I just— that one looks different. More used.”

“It’s my first gun,” Leon said a little stiffly. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

When Leon failed to say more, Chris was about to suggest that they get moving, but then Leon spoke again, saying: “Her name’s Matilda.”

The idea of Leon naming his firearms was probably the cutest thing Chris had ever learned about the man and yes, Chris was officially unable to deny that he felt some sort of actual fucking _love_ for him. And now Leon looked embarrassed, like he had back at the Hofgarten, and Chris just couldn’t have that. “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered between them, like a little kid sharing a secret. “But I would always name my S.T.A.R.S. issued Samurai Edge dorky Japanese names, like Sensei-Badass and Bullet-Chan.” As Chris snickered at his own silliness, Leon gaped. “What?” Chris asked with a smirk. “Better than naming my shit after my grandmother.”

“You take that back,” Leon said mildly. “Matilda is like fine wine— she only gets better with age.”

“Your lines are the worst, Agent Kennedy.”

“Right back at you, Redfield.”

They shared one last look, one last smile, one last moment of true understanding passing between two men who were about to face death head on, and that was it. Leon looked back to the manor, started a comms check with Silver Dagger up above, who answered, and then he was moving onto his feet, crouched low. 

“Stay with me, Redfield,” he ordered. “I don’t want you facing this without me.”

Chris knew there was no one else in the world he could trust more than Leon S. Kennedy. “Let’s do this.”

The guards began their wraparound of the manor, so Leon and Chris kicked off the ground and sprinted down the slope. Chris had motioned Leon along perfectly as the guards above had started another lackadaisical conversation, meaning the coast was clear for thirty-seven seconds to the hand. Leon went first, relying on the setting sun behind them to keep the guards from really wanting to look in the direction they were coming from. Reaching the front was easy, just a quick sprint across the grass. The militia that had been hired likely didn’t understand the threat level of who would be coming after them. Then again, Leon had said they were being proactive for once, and Chris couldn’t agree more. He didn’t normally see this kind of action until _after_ the crisis had hit. 

Their backs hit the columns framing the door in perfect succession, Chris taking a moment to give Leon a thumbs up so he would know Chris was covering while Leon darted forward to the locking mechanism on the front door. It was on the handle, a five-code lock that would only allow the handles to be turned if inputted correctly. Chris hadn’t read anything about codes in the report Leon had written, so he was surprised when Leon was able to get it correct on the first try. _25143_ The lock clicked open and Leon carefully pushed the door in, eyes alert as he swept the front entrance room. When he deemed no one inside, Leon darted in first, Chris following with his sights still trained out into the open field, making sure those guards didn’t spot them coming in.

The entrance room was huge, a lot like all of the mansions Chris had infiltrated throughout his BOW-ridden career. The first floor wasn’t supposed to be any sort of threat to them, most of the cult members and sparsely-employed researchers sticking to the upper and lower levels where the work was being done. Leon made sure every corner was clear while Chris kept his eyes on the walkways upstairs before Leon returned to Chris and they synced watches. 

“Time we can take up from here is 1 hour,” Leon told him in a whisper. “We shouldn’t be taking more than half of that. I’ll go first, you follow me through. Once I get down the dummy, you head up to the third level and destroy everything you can.”

“How’d you know the code?” Chris asked. When Leon frowned, Chris meant to cover up his question with some sort of explanation, not wanting to imply anything like betrayal, but Leon’s frown morphed into a scowl before Chris could explain himself.

“Ada Wong gave it to me,” he told Chris gruffly. “Along with all the maps and info on this place. She thinks she has something to make up for.”

Chris absolutely agreed with her, she had a hell of a lot to make up for. But it stung to know that Leon, for whatever reason, didn’t seem to agree. He really was trying to shoulder every ounce of the blame that existed, even though, in Chris’s opinion, he was the last person that should be blamed for anything at all. From the beginning, Leon had come into this a victim. Just a rookie cop trying to start his first shift, only to be plunged into what would probably become one of the worst days of his life. The terror of seeing the undead for the very first time— no one was able to look back on that moment fondly. 

“The dumbwaiter is to the back,” Leon whispered, his firearm drawn and pointed at the ground, finger off the trigger. “We have to go through the art gallery.”

“This place has an art gallery?”

“I thought you looked at my maps, Redfield.”

Fair enough. Chris gave Leon a nod to tell him to move ahead, taking the rear and looking behind as they crept through the mansion. There wasn’t a sound from anywhere, even above their heads, where Chris knew the monsters were being kept. It was far too quiet for a place that should be filled with infected. He knew that T-virus victims tended to go into a stupor when given no stimulation for extended periods of time, but Lickers usually were a one-in-fifty chance to get from the T-virus, and G-virus fuckers were loud and proud. Everything was— still. 

“Not to ride on a cliche, but it’s way too fucking quiet,” Chris whispered to Leon as they crossed the main floor that opened up into a huge room with a two story ceiling and glass instead of an actual roof. The room was open with what were probably marble statues covered by tarps spaced around in some sort of order that Chris couldn’t understand. The air in this place was eerily still. Across the room, Chris could see into what was a grand dining area, and then beyond that would be the kitchen. The only thing Chris could think of in this art gallery was how easily they could trigger a motion detector. 

“Should’ve brought a smoke canister,” Leon griped, obviously on the same page. “And I would’ve expected at least one patrol down here.”

“You know,” Chris thought aloud. “If I had countless T and G-virus infected at my disposal with some limited amount of control over their movements and stasis, I’d probably be using them rather than paying extra for the militia and an alarm system.”

Leon and Chris’s eyes went wide in unison as they both realized exactly what they were walking into. “Fucking christ,” Leon cursed under his breath. “Don’t knock anything over.”

“Didn’t Ada tell you anything about this?”

“She isn’t the kind of girl to give everything away at once.”

Ada Wong sounded like she pretty much _wanted_ Leon to get himself killed. And at this point, it looked like all of the covered statues in this room were going to be a bit of a hazard because Chris wasn’t sure all of them were statues. He tapped Leon’s shoulder and put his fingers to his lips, asking for silence, before Chris began a careful approach of the first tarp. He’d rather find the fuckers on his own than be jumped. Leon seemed to get the idea and trained Matilda on the tarp Chris was approaching, ready to take the shot. 

Chris took a fistful of the sheet, held his breath, let it out, then yanked away. 

Stone stared back at him, a fair-faced woman with curling hair falling down her naked body being the only thing Chris found. He heaved a quiet sigh of relief before moving on to the next, planning on taking down every single tarp in this gallery. He took the sheet in hand, waiting for Leon to tap on his shoulder, and yanked it down. 

Another statue, this time a young man staring at the floor, dick out, hands on his hips. Not a threat. Chris glanced over his shoulder to see the tense expression on Leon’s face, still somehow gorgeous when dead set on killing something. Chris had a type and it wasn’t even funny at this point. Leon gave him a stiff nod, Chris’s cue to move on to the next. 

At this point, he was pretty confident there wasn’t anything beneath these sheets except statues. He pulled a third tarp and still, there was nothing. They crept further through the gallery, Leon’s presence strong and reassuring behind him. Sheet after sheet was pulled down to reveal statues, all of them standing tall and unsettling with their empty, carved eyes. They moved quicker with growing confidence, because why would the alarm be further back? Chris came to one of the last tarps, grinned easily back at Leon over his shoulder, and pulled it down.

The zombie that stared back at Chris through pale, dead eyes definitely wasn’t the naked statute of a dude with a tiny penis that Chris had been hoping to find. 

The thing bent over and howled, effectively ruining any further chance for stealth. The three shots that went over Chris’s shoulder into the zombie’s head did little for their chances. The zombie garbled through its last bit of life as the last tarp just between them and the next room took a slumped step forward before it dug its feet in and _charged._ “Eyes up, Redfield!” Leon shouted as he drove four bullets into that things brain, hitting his mark even through the sheet. But Chris wasn’t worried about what was in the room with them. He had his AK up and spraying into the masses of the undead that were shuffling out from the dining and picking up speed when they saw their next meal. 

“Kitchen isn’t gonna work!” Chris shouted to Leon over the gunfire as he was driven back slowly regardless of his efforts, just barely keeping the small horde at bay. More and more kept piling out from the dining room. He heard Matilda being fired off, each shot from Leon’s gun reliable and hitting its mark every time, but they just didn’t have the bullets for this, nor the time. “What’s the plan, Leon?”

“Fuck!” 

There was an uncharacteristic layer of panic to the edge of Leon’s curse, causing Chris to lose focus and look back to the other man, almost worried he’d been bit. Leon stopped shooting, weapon lowered, gaze not where it should be as he stared at the floor. For a moment, it looked like he’d given up. But then the same bullheaded stubbornness to survive came back into Leon’s eyes and he brought Matilda back up, popping the head of a zombie with a single perfect shot to the jaw.

“Dumbwaiters are in the billiard and lower office and then the pantry, but that’s at the kitchen too,” Leon told Chris as he and Chris worked to keep some distance. “Kitchen and pantry are the only ones that go down to the third level.”

“Can you get to the bottom any other way?” Chris asked as Leon slowly began to walk backwards, glancing over his shoulder to make sure there was nothing coming up behind them. He followed Leon’s retreat. There was the sound of a scream behind them, low pitched and inhuman. 

“I’ll figure something out!” Leon shouted as he turned on his heel and shot at something Chris couldn’t see, too preoccupied by the horde encroaching on them. “We’re gonna run, Redfield,” he ordered. “You take the back, I take the front, and don’t you dare fall behind!”

“On you,” Chris said, taking a second to reload before spraying every bullet he could at head height, giving them some breathing room. “Your call!”

“Fuck!” he heard Leon curse again before there was a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “With me, now!” 

Chris fell away and followed Leon out of the art gallery, veering to the right down a hallway in unison. From what Chris remembered, this would be taking them to the billiard room, where Chris was meant to have gone from the beginning. Even though they were now in the thick of it way before Chris had hoped, at least he was heading in the right direction. 

“They’re slow,” Leon said, keeping a brisk pace as he stepped over the straggler that had come up behind them. “They’re able to sprint, but not much else and not for long. We should be able to keep ahead of them.”

“Why are so many down here?” Chris asked as they moved down the hall, weapons trained around every corner. There were huge windows to the left, three doors placed every so often on the right. Chris was pretty sure they were libraries or something of the like. “I thought we were only supposed to come across the most infected above and below.”

“When has Ada ever been transparent?” Leon asked through grit teeth. Chris wished he could see him, wished he could get a read on what he was feeling. It was stupid to be worried about Leon’s emotions when he was supposed to be worrying about the slow moving horde following them down the hall. So far, Chris was just thankful they were only facing zombies at this point. 

“All we have to do is get the billiard room!” Leon shouted to him over his shoulder, Matilda firing reliably. Chris wasn’t used to trusting someone to have his back in such a literal fashion, but he was damn relieved that it was Leon against him. “The billiard room is reinforced to act as an emergency bunker for the first level! If we make it there, we’ll have some breathing room!”

There was a crack above their heads and something broke through the ceiling of the hall behind Chris. He couldn’t tun around, had to keep the stumbling masses at bay with the spray of his AK, and as the floor shook beneath his feet from the weight of whatever had dropped, he really wished he was the one facing forward.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Leon deadpanned. 

Chris couldn’t see, but the roar of a G-virus infected was familiar enough. “What stage is it at?” he asked in the few precious moments they had before the thing would gets its bearings and charge. “How far are we from the billiard room?”

“Through the door at the end of the hall, there’s another hallway that has the entrance to the billiard room,” Leon said. “We won’t be able to get in if this whole place goes into lockdown. We’re probably a minute away from everything going to shit and this thing is— _fuck!_ ”

That was the only warning Chris got before human arm looped around his waist and flung him against the nearest wooden wall. He hit the ground hard and taste iron in his mouth from where he’d bit his tongue. Leon landed beside him and flipped onto his back in the blink of an eye, Mathilda up and firing into the infected mass of flesh. The G-virus infected barreled through where Chris and Leon had once been standing like a tank, its inhumane voice sending shivers down Chris’s spine. Leon had used his weight to pull Chris out of the way of the thing, and now they were both crumbled on the floor, unable to move in time for when the monster whipped around and lifted Leon into the air with its good arm. 

Chris kicked onto his back so he could aim his sights on the fucker’s eye, the disgusting bulbous thing already red and angry. The G-virus itself was likely well into its infection, all human aspects gone, the face torn apart for the way of that horrific creature with the alien-esque features. And that meant that Chris’s bullets weren’t going to do shit. 

The infected flung Leon through the air and threw him hard into a door, the door itself buckling under the weight. “Leon!” Chris shouted as he stood and held his ground, firing bullet after bullet into the horrific eye regardless of how useless it was. The monster roared in rage and stumbled back, but the zombies behind it stopped advancing and stayed clear of the G-virus infected’s path, suggesting a kind of intelligence that wasn’t common within lower T-virus infected. For a moment, Chris was fascinated. They even started to lumber away, like some voice was telling them their role was finished, that the other freaks could handle it. Was the work Los Iluminados had done for their hive mind control really that far along?

“Leon!” Chris shouted again as he took steps back with each step forward the monster took. The eye was writhing in agony, but the infected itself wasn’t stopping. As it turned, its good arm broke through the wooden walls like they were made of paper. As Chris’s clip began to run low, this became the last situation he wanted to be in. “Answer me Leon!”

Leon didn’t respond— instead, obnoxiously loud music began to play from a room down just as the door was kicked out and Leon revealed himself, pissed of and wielding a Benelli M3. “Get the fuck out of the way!”

Chris hit the floor and rolled as Leon fired three quick shots into the monster, Chris retreating to Leon’s side. “Shit’s already locked, we need it to break through the walls of this room into the next hall!” Leon shouted to Chris over the howls of the infected. “Help me bait it!”

“I fucking hate bait,” Chris groaned before following Leon’s lead and ducking back into the room. It was nothing special, just some over-decorated bathroom that could honestly hold twenty people. There was a bathtub with an old record player beside it, the source of the obnoxious music, a brick fireplace just to the right. “Didn’t know they had fucking Kanye on vinyl,” Chris had time to say before he was finding his spot to hold and facing the door again. He and Leon had their backs to the left wall, the wall they needed the infected to break down for them. The infected shouldered through the door and Chris realized he wouldn’t even need to set fuses to bring down the ceiling if this fucker kept up with its rampage. 

The blaring music was throwing the thing off. It swung wildly and tile clattered down on its head as he went for the vinyl player first, its sense overtaken by instincts. The music wailed into nonexistence and Leon fired another shell into the thing’s back for his attention. “Over here you overgrown piece of shit!” Leon shouted. The infected turned to face them, screaming in their faces, before swinging its arm down between them. Leon and Chris both sprang out of reach in different directions, and a clean hole in the wall was made for them, showing the hallway beyond. But then the arm swung back around and knocked into Chris hard, throwing him into the porcelain tub that was nearly in pieces from the infected’s first rage of destruction. That disgusting red eye zeroed in on Chris, and for the millionth time, Chris saw his own death in slow motion. 

Then the shotgun was fired twice and Leon was shouting for its attention again, standing tall behind it. “Get in the next room!” Leon ordered. “Lockdown’s happening!” As the G-virus infected turn to Leon, Chris clambered to his feet and fell through that hole in the wall, sights up for anything in here that could go for his neck. It was thankfully empty and the door beyond that led into the billiard room was wide open with a locking mechanism ready to be activated. Chris turned back to tell Leon to join him when there was a cry of pain from the other man, familiar and something Chris was sick of hearing. He ducked his head back through the wall to see the infected had Leon in its hand again, leering up at the other man who was struggling in its grip, Leon’s shotgun clattering to the floor as he was squeezed too tightly.

Chris knew that his bullets were a waste— they’d never stop this thing and Leon would be crushed. But that eye was quivering and the iris was a weak point. Chris only had a split second to make his decision and he prayed it was the right one. He swung his AK to his back and darted across the floor, into the billiard room. Pool cues lined the wall and Chris grabbed one, relieved to find them sturdy and relatively new. Leon let out another sound that drove a knife into Chris’s chest. He ran back to Leon and the monster and prayed that the cracking he was hearing wasn’t the sound of Leon’s ribs breaking. The long claws of the G-virus infected were extended and about to lobotomize Leon just as Chris let out a battle cry and charged forward, impaling the quivering eyeball with the pool cue. 

The infected roared in agony and dropped Leon to the ground in favor of swinging at Chris with its weaker arm. As Chris was knocked to the side, he held fast to the pool cue, the over-decorated stake tearing deeper and through the flesh, that disgusting waste spewing from the eyeball as it was slit in half. The infected screamed and flailed, giving Chris a few precious seconds to scramble to Leon’s side, lift the man back onto his feet, and sprint for the billiard room. 

He dropped Leon to the ground once they were through and pulled Matilda from Leon’s holster on his thigh to send a bullet through the digital locking mechanism. A metal door slammed down from the top of the door frame, locking them in with four inches of thick steel on all sides, more metal coming down over even the windows. They were caged in and Chris couldn’t be happier.

“Those things really like swinging you around,” Chris said as he caught his breath. Leon was still on the floor, holding his side. “Guess they think you’re some kind of attractive, if only by a monster’s standards.”

His weak joke had Leon staring up at him like he was some new level of insane. Chris winced and offered his hand, which Leon took. Pulling Leon to his feet, that same feeling of camaraderie Chris felt with the members of Silver Dagger washed over him. “You and I,” he said to Leon. “We make a good team.”

Leon snorted, then winced in pain. “Don’t get used to it,” he told Chris as he tested his shoulder. “That door will buy us a minute, but only that. Your trapdoor is over there.” Leon nodded towards the large pool table in the middle of the room. Above was a square door in the ceiling that had a string that could be used to pull it down. “I’m over there.” By the pool cues lined on the wall, there was a small metal box with a sliding door. The dumbwaiter. “Get above and set your charges,” Leon ordered, glancing to his watch. “You’ve got thirty minutes.”

Leon strode to the dumbwaiter, barely limping, but Chris saw blood trailing down Leon’s neck into the collar of his shirt and suddenly remembered the head wound. As he remembered every moment of Leon being tossed around by that infected, Chris reached out without a thought to take Leon by the shoulder and pull him around, but he was stupid and forgot Leon was still in fight-or-flight mode, the other man reacting badly to the sudden touch from behind and ducking low to pull out his other firearm and aim it at Chris’s head before Chris could think twice.

“Shit,” Leon cursed low under his breath as he quickly pointed the gun back to the ground. “Why the fuck— you should know better than to come from behind!”

“Sorry,” Chris said, and not at all meaning it. “Let me see—” He reached out again and manhandled Leon by the shoulder and chin, turning Leon’s head so he could see the butterfly bandaid that was holding the gash together. There was a sluggish run of blood down the pale flesh of Leon’s neck, but it didn’t look any worse and definitely wasn’t infected. Leon struggled against his grip, but Chris held fast. “Do you feel okay?” he asked, worried that maybe he shouldn’t let Leon go off on his own after all. “You still got all your motor function?”

Leon smacked Chris’s grip away, teeth barred like an animal. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Chris shot back. “If your head injury gets any worse, you won’t be able to fucking stand, let alone fight your way through three levels of this shit.” There was a banging on the metal door, the walls shaking, but holding fast. The walls themselves were probably reinforced as well. They only had a little longer, but Chris was going to take it. “I don’t want you getting any worse off than you already are,” he told Leon, wanting to make sure the other man knew that Chris wasn’t doubting him or his abilities, he was just concerned. “I need you at your best, Agent Kennedy,” he said, hoping the use of Leon’s title would help them understand each other. “I’m willing to come back to save your ass, but I have a feeling you’d be pissed at me regardless.”

Leon scowled despite Chris’s efforts to be friendly and leaned back out of reach. “Give me my gun.”

Chris sighed and handed back Matilda. “She’s a good gun,” he told Leon. “Reliable. Good kickback. Well taken care of.” Chris liked to think that the way a man cared for his weapons was reflective of how he took care of his people. Leon Kennedy was probably one of the best friends he could ever hope to have and Chris wished he could be something like that to Leon. As Leon strode to the dumbwaiter and pulled open the doors to reveal an empty drop into darkness, Chris realized he had one chance. Leon swung one leg over into the abyss, and Chris went to his side and took Leon by the shoulder again.

“Redfield, what the fuck—”

“After this,” Chris said, interrupting Leon unapologetically. “Get a beer with me.”

Leon went wide eyed and didn’t respond, so Chris knew he had to explain. “I’ve already asked you once, but I don’t think you believed me.” The door behind them was starting to groan as the G-virus infected failed to give up its pursuit of them, a dent beginning to appear. But even in the urgency, Chris chose to put Leon above his instincts. “I want to know you,” he told Leon, softening his tone into something sincere and almost intimate. “I feel like I missed out on a lot because I let myself build a wall between you and me. I don’t want that anymore. I want to be— I want to be your failsafe. And I want to be the person you can depend on. So get a beer with me, Leon, and let’s try out something new. I promise, I’ll do my best to make sure that you don’t have to fear a thing when I’m with you. Not even the end of the world.”

Leon gaped up at Chris before something like agony contorted his expression and tears welled in his eyes. “You fucking asshole,” Leon choked out through a strangled, dry sob. “Why’d you have to do this _now?_ ”

Chris was going to ask what he’d fucked up this time when Leon took his face in his hands and slotted their lips together like it was where Leon belonged. 

And Chris— was too stunned to move. Leon’s lips were chapped but soft against his own, pressing into Chris with hunger. He tasted like salt and blood. Leon’s hands left Chris’s face, roaming down his body, looping around his waist. There was a tug on Chris’s vest, and then Leon was pulling away again, eyes full of heartbreak, glassy and red-rimmed.

Fuck— _Chris hadn’t even thought to kiss him back._

“You better be on that rooftop,” Leon told him. “See you on the other side, Redfield.” Then Leon dropped down the dumbwaiter shaft and Chris was left alone in the billiard room, readying to curse himself to fucking hell and back for how horribly he’d ruined that. 

“Should’ve kissed him back,” he groaned to himself. “Why didn’t you kiss him back, you idiot? Now he thinks he pissed you off! Now he really thinks you’re disgusted by him.” If only Chris’s stupid brain worked as quickly with people as it did with monsters. 

Fuck, making amends would have to wait. So would pinning Leon to the nearest horizontal surface and making him understand that he was damn near the _opposite_ of disgusting to Chris. 

Leon had kissed him. _Leon had kissed him_.

And now that Leon had kissed him, every ugly and undeniable urge he hammered down when in the DSO Agent’s presence were all acceptable and well within becoming a reality. Even with the weight of another apocalypse on his shoulders, Chris found himself unable to focus, smitten by the memory of Leon’s lips against his. How did someone as tall and important as Leon make himself seem so gentle and endearing in Chris’s eyes? And why the fuck was it suddenly happening _now_ , when Leon was a killing machine and nothing close to how Chris was seeing him in his mind’s eye? 

The banging of the enraged G-virus infected brought Chris out of his thoughts and he shook his head in a physical attempt to get back on track. He was supposed to be saving the world here, not thinking about taking Leon “saves-the-world-before-breakfast” Kennedy into his arms and shielding him from all harmful things, including aggressive sunlight and annoying robo calls when he was trying to sleep. Chris wasn’t normally this domestic. 

The door was really dented now, screeching as it valiantly gave Chris a few more peaceful moments to waste on Leon Kennedy. Chris grimaced and went to the pool table, finally ready to get back into gear with the ghost of Leon’s lips on his own, when he saw the shotgun Leon had snagged from that fireplace sitting rather innocently on the edge of the table, unused shells lined up neatly in a row beside it. Leon had left him a gun. In Chris’s line of work, that was probably the absolute most romantic gesture he’d ever been shown.

Jesus christ, this was definitely what love felt like. 

Chris pocketed the shells and mourned the lack of mundanity in his life for a split second as he tucked the shotgun down the back of his vest and climbed atop the pool table, reaching on his tiptoes for the swinging rope to pull down the hatch of the trap door. A ladder swung down, narrowly missing Chris’s head as it unfolded and gave Chris a way up. He tested the give on the first stepping, figuring it would be a humiliating task to explain to Leon that he couldn’t get up because his muscle mass had broken the steps, but aside from a few groans from old wood settling, it held fast. The door probably only had less than a minute left. 

Chris gave the room one last sweep, eyed the dark shaft Leon had disappeared into, and then climbed the ladder, pulling himself up into the smoking room above and pulling the trapdoor shut beneath him just as the door gave way below. Chris held his breath and didn’t move, but the infected didn’t make any noises other than its usual aggressive grunting and yowling. It didn’t know where they’d gone. Good. Leon had a head start, and so did Chris. They could do this.

Chris looked around the smoking room and sought out the light switch first. This place didn’t look like it was in lockdown like Leon had said, but it was an older mansion and probably didn’t have all the bells and whistles of the average mad scientist stomping grounds. 

The smoking room itself looked just like anywhere else— there was a desk, some antique sofas to lounge across, an expensive looking cigar cooler that was almost as tall as Chris, and a terrifying taxidermy mountain lion crawling atop a branch that was jutting artfully from the wall, teeth bared and looking at Chris like he was its next meal. Chris let out a sardonic chuckle. “Don’t look at me like that,” he told the poor dead thing. “I’ll end up like you someday soon.”

He set about finding a way out of the smoking room, realizing the doors and windows were blocked with the same metal as the room below. It seemed like the safe rooms were a safe tower— Chris was sure that whatever was directly above his head was in a similar state of protective functionality. Good to know. 

Chris cocked the shotgun, aimed for the identical keypad by the side of the main door, and fired. Electricity and wiring danced, the wall itself decimated by the spray of the shell, and the door swung open, the room no longer a safe place. Which was great until Chris saw the G-virus infected standing before him, barely into the first stage, not even an eyeball present on its arm with its human face still obviously a woman, and—

It wasn’t moving. 

The thing was looking right at him, swaying, tortured eyes bright and alert. It was shifting its weight, groaning softly beneath labored breaths, but it wasn’t moving. Could it be— it hadn’t gotten its orders yet? That was how this hive mind control thing worked, right? Orders filtered down from the top.

Chris didn’t want to push his luck. He kept the shotgun up and didn’t linger, slowly rounding the infected while it turned on its heels and watched him move, but not once did it try to swing at him. Chris marveled over the technology Los Iluminados had gained and was honestly really grateful he and Leon were going to be wrecking their shit. This was working out well for him in the meantime, but actually being able to order these things around? The BSAA and DSO combined wouldn’t stand a chance. They were only surviving these BOW terrorist attacks on luck and taking advantage of animal instincts inside these monsters making them stupid. If the monsters suddenly had the ability to organize like a well oiled machine, the world was fucked.

Chris got past the infected without a hitch and was shocked at the fact. He put that out of his mind too, filing it away with the things he would have to face later when he wasn’t about to die. He crept down the hall, unnerved to have that thing at his back, saw another at the other end of the hall that _wasn’t fucking moving._ Once a man, also still in the first phase, staring at Chris like it wanted him dead, but doing nothing about it. It grunted and bared its human teeth as Chris passed, but other than that, nothing. Chris could only hope Leon was getting the same lucky hand as he was down below. 

His way up was in the above the entrance hall, the main second story landing that had another set of stairs looping up to the third floor. From there, he’d be going into what Leon had labeled on the map _”???”_ , meaning Leon had no idea what Chris was to expect, but that he would find the manufacturing and storage somewhere in that gray area. Leon had been able to tell Chris that it was where he’d find the virus, and that was it. Chris had flown blind before. He could handle this. 

He pressed his finger to the comm in his ear, figuring it would be good to update the other man with the bare minimum. “On the second floor,” he whispered. “The infected aren’t attacking— I don’t think anyone actually knows I made it up here yet.”

Over Leon’s line, there was an explosion of growls along with the filter of static and the snapping of teeth, followed by an annoyed DSO agent gritting out, _”Lucky you!”_ before the line went silent again. Chris winced and told himself Leon could handle it. He gently pushed open the door to check out the second story landing, finding zombies standing with their dead eyes on the ceiling. None of them were moving. Chris didn’t want to press his luck, but—

He held the door open just a crack and reached around to wrap his knuckles on the wall, creating enough noise for those things to react if they were normal. One of the infected grunted unhappily, some eyes turned to where Chris had made the noise, but not one of them moved. Chris was stunned. 

He pushed the door open and walked into the landing, gun still raised, but his nerves relaxing. Walking between the creatures with absolutely nothing happening was the most alarming sense of safety he’d ever had. The zombies, when docile, were rather fascinating to look at. Chris had always wished he could take a little more time to study the things he fought, learn more about them than just their weak points. “Know thy enemy,” and all of that jazz. He stopped at one zombie in particular and just took a split second to look it over. 

The zombie was looking back, glassy white eyes watching Chris with disinterest. It was a woman, probably around Chris’s age before she’d been turned. There was a huge chunk taken out of her neck, likely the source of her infection. All of the zombies here had some sort of life-threatening wound, which sucked for Chris, because that meant curing them would be useless. Chris wondered if the method of infection affected the amount of control Los Iluminados could exercise over the infected. He almost wished Leon was okay with Chris not destroying all of the data, but taking some of it back for analysis.

Would it be weird to speak to Leon so casually after the kiss that Chris had failed to return? Chris couldn’t imagine how Leon had to be feeling after being slighted like that. He almost wanted to tell Leon that he wasn’t alone when it came to his feelings, but it seemed more like a distraction. A hinderance rather than help. 

Chris pressed his comm again. “Why aren’t I collecting any data?”

There was a long moment before Leon was able to respond, and his voice was strained. Gunshots threatened to drown him out, and there was a moment of fear in Chris when Leon let out a desperate cry, screaming, _”Get away from me!”_ Chris’s grip on his shotgun tightened and he wished he could be down there with Leon, helping him fight through it. 

There was some labored breath from Leon, but it seemed like he’d gotten through the worst of it. _”You really wanna make this information available to someone else? As long as it exists, it can be stolen.”_

It was a good point. “I just think we could use it for a lot of good,” Chris argued because he felt like he had to. “If we were able to somehow use it to control people that are infected, we might be able to stop them from attacking. From spreading things further.”

_”I’m not willing to risk more lives for that dangerous of a gamble.”_

Chris knew Leon was right. Whatever they could gain in attempting to use this trick for themselves would bring too much of a risk on the opposite end. Chris had felt the need to play devil’s advocate, if only to make sure they were on the same page. Chris honestly liked Leon like this— so deadset on revenge that he was able to think clearly enough and understand what was truly the best decision. The T and G virus didn’t belong on this planet and nothing was going to stop either of them from wiping it from the face of the earth. 

“Be safe, Agent Kennedy,” he told Leon through the comms as he stared into the eyes of the woman he hadn’t be able to save. But it was better to feel the regret now and know he could ensure that it would never happened again. Chris liked being proactive.

 _”Watch your six, Redfield.”_ There was another yowl from an infected over Leon’s comm, then silence again. Chris steeled his jaw and told himself again that Leon would be fine. He gave the infected woman one more moment of his solemn silence out of respect before moving past her and approaching the grand staircase that went up to the third floor. From climbing the steps, he had only a single door to his left. He knew it would lead through a series of rooms that had an unknown purpose, the samples being at the far end, kept on this upper level so maintaining appropriate room temperature would be easier to manage. The door had a keypad with its locking mechanism, but it wasn’t activated from what Chris could see. He approached the door slowly, put off by the lack of infected up here to guard. Whatever was through that door would be the only problem he’d have to focus on, and that was unsettling. 

“Heading into the unknown,” he told Leon in a whisper. “Wish me luck.”

Leon didn’t respond. That didn’t make Chris feel any better. He approached the door, pulled it open, and found a wall of metal in his way. Just like the door from the safe room, probably the result of the lockdown Chris wasn’t really sure was actually happening. He looked around the frame for wires, eyed the key code panel and considered the pros and cons of just shooting this one too, when there was the sudden whir of machinery, like someone was opening the door from the other side. Chris took three steps back from the door and held the shotgun up to eye level, waiting for something to happen. Below, he heard the shifting of feet. That horde that had once been held in some stasis was on the move. He could hear the lumbering steps of the G-virus freaks coming to life. The infected had finally received their orders.

Chris was fucked. 

The machinery stopped and the metal door swung upwards. Beyond it were sterile white walls and floors and ceilings with four men and women in lab coats flanking a man dressed in priestly garbs with the symbol of Los Iluminados burned into his cheek. They all seemed shocked to see Chris. 

The occult fucker pointed a shaking finger at Chris and babbled, _“No puede estar en dos lugares a la vez—”_

“Howdy,” Chris interrupted lamely before letting his trigger finger have its fun and firing a shell into the head of the obvious-cult leader. The entirety of his skull was decimated and a garbled death rattle escaped the ruined exposed throat, tongue flailing in the air before the body collapsed to the ground. As the scientists fled with shrieks of fear, Chris wondered if he’d just killed the man that had beheaded Sherry. He hoped he had, for poetic’s sake. 

Chris stepped into the sterile rooms with the sounds of the horde lumbering up the steps behind him. From inside, he could see the locking mechanism for the metal door on the wall to his right. Chris reached back blindly, still keeping his sights around the lab for anything that could try to kill him. He hit the right button by sheer luck alone and the metal door slammed shut behind him, keeping him safe from that horde. Good thing he hadn’t shot the lock entirely.

The lab itself was just like every other fucking lab Chris had seen in his line of work. Vials and equipment he had no idea how to use, screens with numbers and equations and just a whole bunch of useless things for a foot soldier like him. He was here to destroy all samples and information and he was damn good at that. A few well-placed shots into the screens and consoles effectively took care of whatever was being kept on hand. He swept the room and smashed anything that looked like it was important, taking a sick sense of joy in it and using the last shells of the shotgun. 

Yeah, he could definitely get behind being proactive.

He moved to the next lab room with his AK up just in time to see one of the scientists attempt to inject herself with something from a vial and a needle. Chris didn’t take the time to think and let the worst happen— he shot her down before the solution could be pushed into her veins. The vial shattered on impact as the body dropped. A bullet hit the wall just by Chris’s shoulder, and he spun down onto a knee to take out the second scientist that was trying to aim a pistol at him. The scientist was given three holes in their chest for their efforts and Chris went back to his mission of search and destroy. 

He didn’t leave the room until everything was in pieces, stepping over the two bodies with no remorse. He didn’t like killing people in any sense, and he wasn’t the kind of person to enjoy taking down defenseless persons, enemy or not, but every time he looked at one of these fuckers, he couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been the one to sever Sherry’s head from her shoulders. That sweet little girl with the parakeet atop her hair, gone forever, Leon left with her head clutched in his arms, empty and lifeless as a corpse. The anger welled within Chris, fury building and overpowering his sense with every bit of solution and data he destroyed, leaving nothing safe.

These fuckers had tried to break Leon, unprompted and simply for the fun of it. They had taken Leon’s daughter and killed her in cold blood and sent the head like it was an offering. And Leon, strong and brave and good— the man Chris loved— had crumbled beneath the weight of the girl’s dead eyes staring into him. 

Chris was gonna burn these fuckers to the ground. 

He burst into the third and final room, wasn’t surprised to see a complicated looking machine standing in the center with liquid swirling throughout it. There was a Plaga parasite floating uselessly in the vat of red liquid contained in the center, its body well into a stage of decay, decomposing into the concoction. 

A scientist was standing between Chris and the machine. _“No puede detener el tañer de las campanas!”_ he screamed.

Chris had no idea what that meant. “Fuck you,” he spat before mowing the scientist down with a squeeze of his trigger. The scientist died with a broken screech and dropped to the floor, the knife he had been hiding behind his back dropping uselessly. Chris heard the footsteps behind himself before the last scientist got their chance to strike. He turned quickly on his heel and fired into their face, a mess of blood and bone splattering across Chris from how close the scientist had gotten. They fell uselessly into Chris, and he stepped aside, letting the corpse drop to the floor. “Good fucking riddance,” he said, wishing he could have let these people die slower. The way Leon looked, staring off into the distance, that one time he’d lost himself and looked down at his empty hands like—

Like he was remembering the weight of Sherry’s skull in them. 

Chris fired a few more rounds into the dead body at his feet, but it still didn’t make him feel any better. He would never be able to make up for the way Leon had suffered and he would never be able to bring Sherry back. Everything was fucked up and unfair and all Chris could do was set his charges and make sure this didn’t happen to anyone ever again. 

“I’m in the last room of the labs,” Chris told Leon through comms. “I’m going to start setting up the charges. I came across five humans, all of them are dead.”

There was a long silence. Chris’s gut clenched. “You still with me, Kennedy?”

_“I’m with you, Redfield.”_

Chris breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll see you on the roof,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

Leon didn’t respond, and Chris didn’t blame him. He hadn’t kissed back so Leon was probably expecting golden-boy nice-guy Chris to give him a speech and let him down easy. _You and me, it just wouldn’t work,_ Chris could imagine Leon would think he’d say. _I’m Chris Redfield and I save the world— you’re Leon Kennedy and you drink yourself to death._ Chris hated to realize how easily it was to imagine Leon’s point of view. Did the man not think a damn good thing about himself, ever?

The sour thought was as far as Chris let himself consider, settling down for the hardest part of his job— figuring out how to make these stupid kinds of bombs work. Leon had gone with the cellphone-triggered type, where Chris would hook up wires to a flip phone that he would call from a distance, sending this place to high heaven. It actually was a smart choice, no timer involved, allowing them to get a safe distance away from the blast zone. If anything, Chris was grateful Leon had chosen this kind of bomb. It meant that Chris would be able to get Leon a mile away before it went off and Chris would know everything was over and Leon was safe. 

Still— there were so many fucking wires. “Nadia would be better at this than me,” he griped as he set up the C4 charges, sticking them in the various weak points of them room, tapping on the walls to find the support beams within. Leon had explained that they’d be setting the bombs off in unison, destroying the top and bottom so the combined destruction would bring the building down on itself while also ensuring that the most vital information was decimated. It was smart. Leon was fucking smart. Chris just wished he could get this done without risking fucking it up. Too many wires.

“I’ve got it,” Chris said once he was sure he’d had everything in place. He was holding his cellphone in his hand, staring at where the other was hooked up and ready to set off the charges once Chris made the call. “Heading up to the roof. What’s your status?”

The line was still quiet. Chris frowned, not liking the lack of response. “Kennedy,” he called out, pressing insistently into his ear, wondering if maybe he hadn’t hit the button right. But there was still nothing, not even static, just silence. “Kennedy, I’m heading to the roof. I need you to answer me.”

There was nothing.

Chris reached to his back, ready to check his ammo pouches for how much he had left should he need to attempt a rescue, when he felt something that didn’t belong tucked away in one of the pouches. He pulled it out and brought it back around to see what it could be. 

It was— Leon’s cell receivers. The part of the device that would be used to set off the of the charge once Leon made the call with one of the two cellphones. The cellphones that were currently in Chris’s hands, effectively turning Leon’s bomb into a suicide set-off only. Chris suddenly remembered the tug on the back of his vest when Leon had kissed him and realized Leon had put these on Chris without Chris knowing on purpose.

Leon— was going to set off his own charge manually.

Leon was going to let himself die. 

Chris stared at the objects in his hand. His fingers slowly clenched into a shaking fist around the receiver. He was fucking _furious._

“I’m heading to the roof,” he lied to Leon over the comms so Leon would think everything was going according to his stupid fucking _suicidal_ plan. “I’ll let you know when I’m topside.” Chris clenched his teeth and tucked Leon’s receiver back into his vest. “See you soon.” There was only silence, but Chris wasn’t surprised. 

Chris reloaded his AK and stalked through the labs back to the metal door, ready dive back into hell for Leon. 

. . .

Chris was bloody and bruised by the time he made it down to the third lowest level of the basement, where Leon would be. It hadn’t been difficult once he’d dropped down the dumbwaiter after avoiding the G-infected that was well beyond pissed at Chris at this point— Leon had definitely left his mark in the basement levels, corpses strewn everywhere, the dead twice as dead and the place in chaos. There were scientists on the second basement level, also fucking dead. Leon really did know how to make an entrance. 

Even through Chris’s pride in Leon’s skill, he was still full of rage.

Leon had planned this. Since before the kiss, since before they’d landed in Switzerland, since before Agapito. Leon had counted on dying here, one way or another. It made sense in some sick part of Chris’s head, the part that genuinely was run ragged by the villains he could never stop. Chris would never go through with anything on his own, but sometimes the idea of falling in battle was a tempting kind of outcome. 

It wouldn’t be his own fault. He’d die doing what he knew was right and that would be the end of it. No more fighting, no more banging his head on a wall in an attempt to save lives, no more monsters— none of it. Sometimes dying with his gun in his hand seemed like a good way to go and more appealing then facing down another apocalypse. But Chris was always able to push that thought aside and tell himself that he was needed, no matter how bad it got. In the end, Chris had friends and family who needed him to always keep fighting and Chris would be damned before he let himself fall.

Leon— Leon didn’t have that anymore, did he? All Leon had were bodybags. He’d had Sherry, but she was gone. Ada Wong, but she’d sold Sherry out, even on accident. Claire, but Claire hated Leon’s guts for a reason that Chris found hard to argue. Who did Leon have? His handler, Hannigan? She wasn’t even here. Chris knew Leon had been close with the president, but he was dead too. Angela Miller was nowhere to be found, Helena Harper was in the dark. Jack Krauser was the guy who had worked with Leon against Los Iluminados the first time— Krauser was fucking dead after betraying Leon to his face. Chris had lost people, but still had some who mattered who were still kicking. Leon just had Chris, but he didn’t know it because, Chris—

Chris hadn’t kissed him back.

Chris cursed himself as he rounded huge server towers, the lowest level populated with what seemed like electrical equipment all meant for the controlling of the infected. There was a cold glow from deep within this level, a light Chris was following. He had a feeling that what he needed would be coming from that emanating point and he knew he would find Leon there.

Once he did find Leon, Chris was at a loss. He wasn’t sure how to talk down someone like Leon who was a special kind of suicidal. It wasn’t like Leon was about to actively kill himself, but it was like before, when he’d been given Sherry’s head— he was forgetting to live. Willfully forgetting, yes, but still the same. Leon had been given his final defeat. Chris didn’t know how he could pull Leon back from the brink, but god damn it, he was still going to try. If there was one thing Chris Redfield was shit at, it was giving up. 

He crept through the maze of servers towards the glow, every word that he wanted to scream into Leon’s face on the tip of his tongue. How fucking dare he try to trick Chris like this? How dare he throw his life aside like people weren’t depending on him? How dare he just give up like this when there was still work to be done? Maybe it was unfair to be putting the weight of the world on one man’s shoulders, but Chris’s brawn had come from years of carrying the same fucking weight, and he wasn’t so selfish as to throw in the towel like Leon was now. The more Chris thought about it, the more he lost focus on how dangerous of an area he was in and the angrier he got. 

Leon— was selfish. A huge selfish fucking bastard and he needed to be hit a couple times across that fucking perfect face to really understand what he was doing and how _fucking stupid_ he was for doing it. Chris’s hands were shaking with how pissed off he was, and it would make his aim shit, which only served to make him even fucking angrier. He was gonna break Leon’s Kennedy’s perfect fucking nose once he found him. 

“Redfield?” came Leon’s voice, mostly over the comms, but then also from an echo just a ways away. Chris turned on a dime and followed the voice that was outside the electronic piece and ignored Leon. “Are you there?” Leon asked, the delay in the real-time voice versus the one over the speaker a little off putting. Chris scowled and kept his sights up, not letting his guard down. “It’s been a while, Redfield, I need to know if you’re on the roof. I’m making my way up, what’s your status?”

Chris came around final server tower to see a wall of lights trained one some odd circular vat of clear liquid with something floating inside of it. None of that matter to Chris, because he also saw Leon.

The man didn’t looked injured, but his leather jacket was torn at the shoulder and there was dark bruising forming around Leon’s neck. There was bodies strewn about him, scientists that had been put down for the apocalypse they’d been trying to kickstart. Leon himself was standing with his shoulders slumped in defeat, finger to the comms, his gun held limp at his side.

“Chris,” Leon said softly. “I’m almost there. Just tell me where you are.”

Leon S. Kennedy was a fucking liar and Chris _needed_ to punch him in the fucking throat. 

Chris pushed his AK around his back and strode forward, no longer attempting stealth. Leon whirled around with a look of exhaustion, Mathilda raised and ready to take down whatever monster was next approaching, but his expression fell into shock and his step faltered when he saw it was Chris, giving Chris perfect time to cross the distance between them, get his hands around Leon’s neck, and shove him against that vat behind him, pinning him to the glass. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Kennedy?!” Chris roared, letting every ounce of his fury seep into his words. “We had a fucking plan! Get this shit blown to hell and get the fuck out of here, _together!_ You’re just gonna throw the world away for your stupid melodramatics?! You’re a god damn coward, Leon Kennedy, and I’m going to drag your fucking ass from here to Virginia so I can court martial your fucking—”

Chris cut himself off when he noticed there was a label on the vat behind Leon, who was limp in Chris’s grip, looking up at him with wide, hollow eyes. The label was a sheet of metal tacked into the glass, engraved with a name.

_Sherry Birkin, G-V-1-02_

Chris’s eyes dragged themselves from the plaque and into the vat where a nude female body was floating, suspending by a clear, blue tinted liquid. The body was pale and slim and young, and the head was missing, wires connecting into the spine and nervous system through the neck and heading up out of the vat, into what looked like a large computer driver overhead. The body— _Sherry’s corpse_ had the signs of Plaga along the exposed spine, and the protruding veins of the burgeoning G-virus spattered along her naked limbs and stomach. 

Chris’s grip on Leon fell away and he took a step back, trying to understand what he was seeing. In front of him, Leon didn’t move. Didn’t even lift a hand to check his throat, even though Chris knew he had held on far too tight. Leon didn’t do anything except slump back against the vat, leaning against the glass that held the mutilated body of his daughter. 

“Back in Raccoon city,” Leon said softly, voice hoarse from Chris’s abuse. “She was infected with the G-virus by her father. Her mother was able to fix her up, get her the antidote in time, but you know this shit never really goes away. It was the first strain of the G-virus ever successfully produced— the virus in its most pure form, lying dormant in her body, wrestled into submission by the chemicals administered by a loving parent and Sherry’s willpower to fight it. Using this parent G-virus virus and then the dominant plaga strain Ada Wong stole from the Eastern Slavic Republic, they were able to manufacture a hybrid within her body. All that was left was to make sure they had absolute control, none of Sherry’s humanity left behind to avoid making things complicated. So of course, they didn’t need her head.”

Chris looked to Leon in horror. The man wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he had turned around in the midst of his explanation and was looking into the vat with his hand against the glass. 

“I’m sure getting a strain of the T-virus that would instinctively bend to the will of a G-virus infected wasn’t difficult,” he told Chris, sounding like he was in some sort of daze as he looked upon his daughter. “Or at least, it would have been easy to figure out. Self preservation is an animal instinct found in the most basic of insects. With the queen bee giving orders so readily, it’s hard to imagine anything going wrong once they found out the formula. I don’t know how much of a range this has and if it can influence G and T and Plaga infected things that aren’t this specific strain, but I guess that doesn’t matter. It’ll be destroyed regardless. Sherry’s funeral was closed casket— no one wants to pay their final respects to just a severed head. I plan to give her a real burial here, beneath the ground. And I refuse for her to be alone.”

Chris felt those words like a slap. “You knew she was here,” he said. “And you plan to bury yourself with her.”

Leon still wouldn’t look at him. “Uh-huh.”

The anger was surging back again, but it was weak against the waves of heartbreak washing over his body. Leon— had intended to be buried with Sherry. It made sense in a way that made Chris feel like giving up too. Leon’s daughter was gone. She’d been taken and twisted and used for a sick goal of expediting mass murder for the sake of a chaotic world that couldn’t be saved for more than a day and Leon hadn’t been able to save her from it. 

Chris suddenly understood why Leon was shouldering all of the blame. Los Iluminados had been Leon’s mission back in 2005, and Leon had done his best to wipe the scum from the face of the earth. But obviously one man couldn’t handle a job that big, especially not when being faced with betrayal by his own partner Jack Krauser and the horrific web of terror Albert Wesker wove. Los Iluminados had been fractured, but still survived long enough to aid Arias in his quest for revenge. And now, here was that same fucking cult, trying to do the same fucking evil, and none of this would have ever happened if Leon had been able to take them all out back in Spain. Sherry would still be alive if Leon had just managed to finish the job over a decade ago.

And that— wasn’t fair at all to Leon. 

“You couldn’t have stopped this,” Chris told him, knowing that Leon could hear the pain in his own voice. Leon’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “Do you hear me, Kennedy?” Chris beckoned, pleading with Leon to understand. “You’re one man against a whole world of fucked up shit. You couldn’t have done anything to stop this.”

Leon’s hand on the glass slowly turned into a fist. “You pity me.”

Chris laughed in disbelief, the sound as broken as he felt. “You think I pity you? Fucking Leon Kennedy, who made it through an entire city of infected with nothing but the training of a rookie cop and the steadfast desire to help people? You think I fucking pity you?” Chris moved closer, standing just behind Leon, lowering his voice to try and get through to the other man. “You’re a soldier, Leon, a soldier to your fucking bones, and a damn good one. And after New York, you became one of _my_ soldiers. I’m not losing another one. I don’t pity you. I _need_ you. If you fall, I’m here, and if I fall, you’re here. You were one man against the world and you did your best, but after this, you won’t be doing any of it alone ever again. We can’t do this without each other, Leon, and I don’t intend to even try to save a world that doesn’t have you in it.”

Leon was silent. Slowly, he turned, expression washed with disbelief. He looked up at Chris like Chris was speaking another language. The exhaustion in Leon’s bones was palpable and leaking into Chris, Chris’s empathy forcing him to let go of that last dredge of anger and actually _understand._

Leon Kennedy didn’t want to die— he just couldn’t bear to let Sherry Birkin leave this world alone because dying alone was the future Leon saw for himself and he feared it. Even if her limbs was no longer her own, even if the person who Sherry Birkin was was dead and gone, her body was still here, suspended and being used for a science experiment from hell. She didn’t deserve that and Leon was nothing if not a good soldier and an even better father, a _better man_. He wasn’t about to let Sherry Birkin become something she hated. And in Leon’s moments of unfettered mourning, “the captain goes down with the ship.” Leon wouldn’t leave unless he was sure of the virus and Los Iluminados’s ultimate destruction. 

Leon wasn’t selfish, he was saving the world for the millionth time and seeing it through while saving Sherry from the long reach of Umbrella for the last time— but Chris certainly was fucking selfish. He wasn’t going to let Leon go down at all. 

“I have your phones,” Chris said, gesturing to the back of his vest. “We’re going to wire them to your charges and we’re going to get to the roof and get the fuck out of here, as planned. And then you’re not going to leave my fucking side, you hear me?”

Finally there was something on Leon’s face aside of exhaustion. Instead, it was rage. A sneer twisted Leon’s gorgeous features, those green eyes burning with something like hate. He pushed off from the glass and held Mathilda up, aiming his sights down Chris’s chest. Chris didn’t let himself flinch, knowing Leon wasn’t capable of pulling the trigger. The kiss in the dumbwaiter made him more than confident. When Chris didn’t back down and instead took a step closer, letting the muzzle press into the skin above his beating heart, Leon flinched. But then the moment of indecision passed, and Leon was sneering harder, baring his teeth.

“You think you can change my mind?” Leon growled, Matilda trembling in his grip. “I’ve made my decision, Redfield! I don’t have a damn thing waiting for me up there, nothing! Ada is a willing pawn in all of this, Claire won’t even look me in the eye, and every man and woman I’ve ever trusted to have my back is dead or gone! Every time I try to take these fuckers down, another one comes back with death threats and vengeance and there’s nothing I can do about it! I’m tired of cutting off heads that only grow back. I’m tearing out the heart of this one fucking snake and I’m going down with it so I never have to fight and lose and watch people die for a never-ending cycle ever again!”

“You’re giving up,” Chris accused.

 _“Of course I’m giving up!”_ Leon shouted back in Chris’s face. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I?! Maybe you’ve got shit up there keeping you going, but all I have left is down here, hooked up to some fucking computer and being used to serve out the end of the fucking world! I can’t trust anyone! Even fucking Hannigan won’t be able to put me in the field after this! They were talking about my fucking resignation, Redfield, once I’m out of here they’re planning to disavow me and then what will I do? Just stumble around this dying planet, drinking myself to death? I’d rather die with the person I love than wither away into nothing!” 

Leon suddenly tore himself away from Chris, Mathilda falling to his side again. Leon gripped at his hair and pulled hard enough to hurt, face twisted with agony. He looked afraid but resolved. Leon didn’t want to die, but he didn’t see anything beyond this, so why live? Chris hated that he was suddenly able to understand so clearly. 

“Just go, Redfield,” he told Chris, voice cracking at the end. “I don’t— there’s nothing left for me up there. Nothing but endless fights for a world that doesn’t want me anymore. Just get to the roof and let me go. You don’t need me to watch your back. You have plenty of good people who can do the same job but better, and without all the fucking baggage. The mistakes. The bad habits.” Leon shook his head. The rage died and he was left only exhausted again. Chris wanted nothing more than to gather the man in his arms and prove—

Wait, wait— why couldn’t Chris do that?

“In the dumbwaiter,” Chris began, but was cut off by Leon’s scowl and the rise of Mathilda again.

“You don’t talk about that,” Leon snapped. “Don’t fucking— I just wanted to be able to do this with no regrets, you hear me? What I did doesn’t fucking matter, it was obviously a mistake. I’m sorry for forcing that on you, but I’m not sorry for doing it. Just let me die with some dignity left.”

“What makes you say it was a mistake?” Chris asked.

Leon threw his arms up, incredulous. “You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed, fraying a little at the edges for Chris to see. Good. Chris needed to get Leon to the end of his resolve before he could act. “You want me to say it, don’t you? You’re a fucking asshole, Redfield!”

“Why do you think it was a mistake?” Chris asked again calmly, approaching Leon carefully, making sure he didn’t startle the other man. Leon back away regardless, moving to the consoles that had C4 attach that were surrounding Sherry’s horrific grave, trying to get some sort of space between him and the man that he likely thought was going to hurt him. 

“It was a mistake because you don’t feel the same!” Leon cried out, frantic in his retreat. “And why the fuck would you? A washed-out DSO agent pledged to a dead president and drowning himself in alcohol. That’s nothing that golden-boy Chris Redfield would ever want. Wanting you is a Sisyphean task, like trying to get blood from a stone! There’s no hope for it. I’m just flaying myself alive every time you get close enough to touch and telling myself I love the way it hurts because it hurts like how I love you!”

Chris’s heart fucking _ached._

“It doesn’t matter,” Leon choked out, eyes watering. He wasn’t looking at Chris anymore, was looking at Sherry in the vat. “God, why do I even bother anymore? It doesn’t fucking matter. Get onto the fucking roof, Redfield, that’s an order. Just— forget you ever had to know someone like me. You’re all gonna be better off without my sorry ass dragging you down.”

Chris breathed out raggedly, struggling to keep calm. “Why do you think it was a mistake to kiss me, Leon?”

Leon looked ready to actually shoot him. “Because you didn’t fucking kiss back, Redfield!”

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Chris took a step forward, letting Mathilda press agains his chest again. He wasn’t afraid of this man, he was afraid of what Leon was about to do to himself. Chris would put himself in the path of thousands of bullets to keep Leon from the fate he sought. “I didn’t kiss you back,” Chris agreed, taking slow steps forward, backing Leon up against the consoles until there was no more room for Leon to retreat. And then Chris kept going, encroaching on Leon’s space, Leon’s elbow bending as he refused to lower Mathilda but losing arm’s length between them. 

“You put your heart on your sleeve and I let you down,” Chris told Leon as he moved in, closer and closer, able to see every minute detail on the other man’s face, so close that Leon couldn’t hide from him if he tried. Leon shook his head as he was cornered, bangs falling to uselessly try to hide his eyes, but Chris didn’t stop. Leon was pressed against the console and Chris was only a foot away. “You were so brave in that moment. You’re always so brave, Leon. It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you.”

Leon was trembling and Mathilda was a bruising pressure against Chris’s chest, but he wouldn’t back down. He’d gone through hell for Leon and he’d do it again a million times over if it meant the other man would understand his worth to Chris and fight to live again. Chris knew what Leon wanted, what Leon _needed._ It wasn’t a partner to carry on with the mission once Leon let himself break— Leon needed someone he trusted to pick up the pieces once he shattered apart, someone who refused to let Leon fall behind. 

Chris closed the last few inches. Mathilda was wedged between their chests. Chris laid his hand on the barrel and carefully pushed the gun down. Leon didn’t fight him, didn’t even move. He only stared up at Chris like he was afraid of what Chris could do to him. And Chris could do anything. Seal Leon’s fate with a few harsh words, reach around to the C4 charge that was behind them on the console and send them both up in smoke, tell Leon that he was worthless and better off dead if he was so eager to fall. 

Chris wasn’t going to do any of that. Instead, he reached up in the tiny inch of space between them and took Leon’s jaw in his hand. His brushed his thumb over the bruise he’d left from the night before, when Leon had told him they couldn’t save anyone. Chris refused to buy in to Leon’s self-fulfilling prophecy. He was going to save Leon even if it killed him. 

“I didn’t kiss you back,” Chris whispered between the space between them, low and intimate. “Because I couldn’t believe that DSO Agent Leon Kennedy somehow saw me as someone desirable. I’ve wished it for ages, Leon, longer than I want to admit. And once my wish came true— I froze.” He hook his finger under Leon’s chin and pulled Leon’s head up, angling him. Leon’s breath hitched and he trembled against Chris. “I know what you need, Leon,” he told the other man, his words like breath, brushing Leon’s skin. “Let me give you what we both want.”

Then Chris leaned in and seal their lips together, feeling the moment Leon finally understood the one thing they absolutely had in common. It was an echo of before when Leon didn’t kiss back now, but Chris didn’t mind. He didn’t deepen the kiss, didn’t ask for more than Leon could give in his shock. He only allowed himself a chance to really taste Leon this time— beyond the blood and salt and adrenaline was something human, something alive. It made Chris feel exhilarated, like he could stare down any monster and win at any cost, because Leon fucking Kennedy wanted Chris fucking Redfield and nothing could give Chris more of a reason to keep fighting. 

Chris pulled away from the kiss and the wet sound of their lips separating sent a thrill through him. Leon must have felt the same because he shuddered _hard_ against Chris’s chest. “You’re lying,” Leon accused weakly. “You’re lying to keep my from seeing this through.”

“I may be a bit of a dick, but I’m not a liar,” Chris replied, his hand leaving Leon’s jaw to creep up and into his hairline, carding soothingly through the soft locks. Jesus christ, if Leon really didn’t use product then Chris was going to have to have some words with whatever god had made this man, because this shit just wasn’t fair. “I would never do that to you, Leon, or myself.”

“You’re fucking lying,” Leon insisted like he couldn’t bear to believe anything else. “Don’t make me— don’t give me hope. _I fucking hate hope._ ”

“And I love you.”

Leon flinched violently and Chris felt it in his core. He held fast to Leon, not letting him escape despite how wound tight the other man was, back in fight or flight. Chris tilted Leon’s head back up, forcing those gorgeous blue eyes to meet his own. “I swear it on my life,” he told Leon. “I love you.”

Leon’s face contorted with agony. _“How?”_

That was a hell of a question. “How couldn’t I?” Chris asked. “Even when things get bad, you’re always in the thick of it, fighting despite how much you want to give up. My sister told me so many things about how you never once forgot her, even when you were fighting for your own survival. You readily gave up everything to watch Sherry so Claire could continue her search for me. You take all of this responsibility and never complain, not really. You may have griped and whined, but you never would have considered refusing. You kept saving people and protecting them so long as there was someone to save. And then there’s all the little things— the way you laughed back at that breakfast place, the way you’re able to defend yourself even with the most serious head injury I’ve seen in ages, the way you’re willing to give up everything to do what’s right.” Chris paused. “Also, you’re extremely fucking handsome and unfairly flexible, but I’m pretty sure that’s a given.”

Shockingly, Leon’s cheeks went a gentle pink. “You think I’m _handsome?_ ” He didn’t ask that like he was digging— he asked like he’d never heard the word said in relation to himself ever before.

Chris paused. Had he— had he ever heard anyone give Leon a genuine compliment? “You’re fucking beautiful,” Chris murmured, doubling down because he never thought he’d have the opportunity. He threaded his fingers through the soft locks at the back of Leon’s head, at the base of his neck, and held tight. “There’s no one who can hold a candle to you, Leon. I always thought you knew that, but maybe I was wrong. So let me just make it official— you’re probably the most sinful temptation I have ever seen in my entire fucking life and the only reason I wasn’t able to look at you back in Italy was because I felt too much like that scum Agapito to be looking and imagining without your consent.”

Leon shook his head, pulling from Chris’s grip, but not like he wanted to escape it. “I don’t believe you.”

Chris snorted a laugh, amazed. “I can kiss you again. Would that help?”

Leon shuddered again, open his eyes to reveal they were dark with _something._ But there was also an edge of light. Chris was getting through. “This won’t fix me,” he warned Chris. “This— giving me this, giving me you. It’s insane, Chris, you have no idea what you’re signing up for. This won’t fix me.”

“I know it won’t,” Chris assured him, pulling Leon in and leaning down to press their forehead together. Between them, barely space enough to breathe, Leon’s blue eyes bore into him and searched for a lie that he wouldn’t find. “Shit like this doesn’t just get magically repaired. I’m only hoping it’ll give you an incentive to stick around long enough for me to try.”

Something inside Leon broke in that moment and he surged upwards to kiss Chris. This third kiss was the time they both got it right. Chris’s free arm went to wrap around Leon’s waist, and Leon brought his own up to hold Chris’s face in his hands, pressing into the other man like he wanted to devour him. As Chris met Leon’s desperation with heady desire of his own, he wondered how long Leon had been wanting him, wondered how long Leon had suffered through these feelings alone. The idea of Leon pining from afar and letting himself wallow in the ache had a tight surge of protectiveness gripping Chris’s chest. He yanked Leon back by his hair and swallowed the moan he tore from Leon’s lips, vowing to never let Leon feel alone again. 

A timer sounded between them. Chris tore away from the kiss to look down to his watch. He hadn’t even considered them running out of time.

“They’re waiting for us,” Chris told Leon. Then he yanked Leon’s hair again and couldn’t help but grin at the sound Leon made, a needy little whimper. _“Us,”_ he emphasized. “You got me, Boss?”

“You fucking asshole,” Leon gasped, brow furrowed and pupils blown wide. “I had this fucking plan, you know that? This entire fucking plan. Fuck, I told a realtor to put my house up for sale this time next week. I reworked my fucking will. And then you just barrel in and ruin fucking everything.” Leon pulled himself up to kiss Chris again. Chris was more than eager to return it, hungry for Leon in a way he’d never wanted anyone else. “I’m going to have such a headache when we get back.”

“I’ll help you,” Chris promised. “Anything to make sure you come home.”

Leon nodded and pressed their foreheads together himself, nose to nose, eyes shut for a moment of peace. “I need— I need to say goodbye.”

Chris nodded and reluctantly took a step away. “I’ll set your charges,” he told Leon. “Take as long as you need.”

Leon gave him a grateful nod and moved past Chris for his final moments with his daughter. He set an additional timer on his watch, resolving not to give Leon long enough to second guess the chance he’d given Chris. As Chris went through the painstaking task of ensuring all the wires were in the right place for the cellphones, Leon’s voice a soft whisper behind him as he bid Sherry a final goodbye, Chris had his own moment with the girl who had fallen to such a terrible fate. 

He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Sherry wouldn’t have wanted Leon to die with her. Chris promised Sherry’s memory that he would make sure Leon outlived them all.

There was a sudden silence over them both as Chris finished up the charges. He turned on his knees and saw Leon just standing there in front of Sherry, not saying a word, not moving. Leon had been right before— Chris had no idea what he was going through. The loss of a parent couldn’t be compared to the loss of a daughter. Even if Sherry wasn’t biologically his, Leon Kennedy was the kind of person to love someone with his everything if able to trust. Losing Sherry— losing Sherry was the closest Leon would ever come to his own death until the day he died.

Chris stood and approached slowly from behind, keeping his steps heavy so Leon would hear his approach and not put himself on the defensive. But even for Chris’s oafish stomping about, Leon still jumped when Chris put his hand on the center of Leon’s lower back.

“Sherry,” Chris said to the mutilated body in the vat. “You were a good girl.” That didn’t even seem like the half of it. “Brave, smart, stubborn. You came from a shit situation and kept your head held high and didn’t run when you were afraid. You were a credit to the DSO and to your family name and to anyone that was able to say they knew you. You were a hero to this planet just as much as me and Leon.”

Under his palm, Leon’s back was tense. Chris couldn’t see the man’s face, but he didn’t have to look to know that Leon would be holding back tears. Leon hadn’t been there for Sherry’s funeral because it wasn’t the funeral Leon had planned for the girl— this moment, right now, three levels below and amidst the dead. This was the funeral Leon had been anticipating. 

“You didn’t deserve to come to an end like this,” Chris continued softly. “You didn’t deserve anything that you went through. You were a good kid, Sherry, and you never let any of us down in the same way that you never failed to make us feel human. I didn’t know you as well as I wish I did, but Claire— Claire told me enough. You made Leon and Claire so fucking proud.” Beside him, Leon’s body shook violently with a stifled sob. Chris ran his fingertips up and down Leon’s spine, letting the other man finally mourn like he should have days ago. 

“You made everyone so proud,” he told Sherry again, eyes on the neck, where he should have been able to see her face. “And we’ll never not be proud of you. Thank you so much for letting us know you and be with you. You did your best to make the world a better place. You don’t have to fight anymore— you can rest now, Sherry. We’ll take it from here.”

An audible hitch threatened to strangle Leon and he ducked his head. Tears dropped from where Chris couldn’t see, hitting the floor in front of their feet. “I need—” Leon cut himself off and wiped at his eyes with the hilt of his gloved palm. “Fucking christ, Chris, convince me again. I can’t— I can’t keep leaving her. Every time I left to go somewhere, I was so scared I’d come back to a world in ruin and her gone. And that nightmare— it finally came true and I don’t know what I can…”

Chris’s hand on Leon’s back moved up to rest on his shoulder. “Sherry wouldn’t want you to die here,” he told Leon softly. “She’d prefer you didn’t die at all, honestly, but not like this. She knows as well as I do that you giving up like this? It’s an insult to yourself. And it’s an insult to her. I know it’s unfair to you to make you keep carrying this weight, but I’m a selfish asshole and I’m not ready to let you go just as much as you can’t let go of Sherry.” He pulled Leon closer into his side by the shoulder. Seconds ticked by in his head, but for once, he was readying to deny a timer for the sake of making sure he got Leon out of here alive. 

“This is gonna hurt,” he told Leon. “I don’t know for how long— maybe forever. An empty box in an empty room. There’s no way to get rid of it. All you can do is fill the room with things that make you feel something other than shit. And if you’ll have me, I’ll be with you every step of the way. And one day you’ll wake up and feel something other than that ache, and I’ll be there with you, and maybe— just maybe— you’ll be excited about waking up at all. I’m begging you, Leon. Give me a chance to prove it to you.”

Leon was solid like stone against him, looking up at Sherry. “When did you become such a poet?”

“Since I learned the difference between what you want and what you need.” Chris squeezed his shoulder. They really were running out of time. “Last shot, Agent Kennedy,” he said softly. “You know as well as I do that Sherry will chew you out if you meet her up in heaven before your time is really up.”

Leon finally moved, finally pulled out of Chris’s grip and taking Mathilda from his waist, pulling the slide for a bullet. “You and I both know we’re stuck in hell,” he said. “There’s no way I’m letting you die down here— and I don’t think I can convince you to leave without me.”

Leon finally let Chris see his face, a broken smile that hurt Chris to see. “Let’s get through this shitty place and get you topside, Redfield,” he beckoned. “I always thought someone like you belonged in the sun.”

“You better be up there with me,” Chris warned. 

Leon paused, gaze dragging itself to Sherry one last time, before he met Chris’s eyes again and gave him a firm nod. Chris knew that Leon had spoke the truth; this wouldn’t fix him. What Chris felt for Leon, the devotion and admiration and love— it wasn’t a cure-all, wasn’t a set of herbs that could cut through the pain indefinitely. Chris was going to have to work for it just as much as Leon. Good thing Chris was as stubborn as a rock. 

“I’ve got three clips left,” he told Leon as he started to move back between the servers with one last silent goodbye to the girl in the vat. He had both of the cellphones tucked in the back of his vest. Chris was going to set off the charges to take the weight of the action of burying Sherry for good from Leon’s shoulders. “Let’s see what kind of flashy moves I pull off when surviving this shit by the skin of my teeth for the millionth time.”

Impossibly, Leon cracked a grin. “I guess my suggestion for us to stealth this is gonna be wasted?”

“You said it yourself, Agent Kennedy— my stealth is shit.”

Chris was about to move up when Leon took him by the elbow and held him back, going up on his toes to kiss the corner of Chris’s mouth. Chris’s eyes went wide, a little stunned and more than a little blown away to remember that they could just do that now while Leon looked fondly up at him. “I’m not thanking you yet,” he told Chris. “But I’m giving you that chance you wanted. Don’t fucking blow it, Redfield.”

As Leon moved past Chris, visibly slipping from the mindset of a man into a soldier once again, Chris swore to himself that Leon Kennedy was the one man he would never lose.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this final chapter is like 20k and 8k of it is sex how about that
> 
> i'm going on vacation for a week but then i get to start my next re fic and i'm !!!!!! so !!!!!!!!!!!! excited !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love chreon and i'm so happy to have a ship for this fandom that i can write because honestly i've been in deep for so long it's nice to finally have something to write about 
> 
> next is gonna be either a cute 5+1 or the re2make with Chris written in there because i'm smitten by re2make Leon and if i have to suffer then so should Chris

D.C. and Nadia got them out of there in record time with equally record griping about not sticking to the schedule and Chris couldn’t take his eyes off of Leon in the back of the carrier. Nadia was chattering up a storm that had Chris sitting tense in his seat, telling them all about what they’d seen from above as Leon and Chris had fought their way through the inside. Leon was sitting at the opposite side of the carrier from Chris and he hated it, but it made sense. It wasn’t like Leon was in the place to want to be crowded. It wasn’t like either of them weren’t still riddled with adrenaline, blood and guts and other substances hanging from their bodies after narrowly escaping that fucking mansion. Chris had gone through the whole thing three times and he was happy to know that it was a pile of rubble at this point. But Chris wasn’t even close to being capable of relaxing and he couldn’t stop looking to Leon. 

There had been this moment, atop the roof, when they’d made it through the shitfest that was a mansion full of once mind-controlled zombies and monsters suddenly without a master and descending into chaos. Two G-virus infected had actually made it out of the mansion itself and into the grounds, blown to pieces by Silver Dagger above. Everything had fallen to hell and Chris was loathe to realize that they really had barely gotten out of their alive. And there had been this moment, atop the roof. 

They’d all but been thrown onto the roof and Chris was pretty sure he had a bruised rib from landing wrong. Leon had rolled with it and come back up guns blazing, as fucking always, and the sound of D.C. and Nadia suddenly being within range of comms and the thrum of the propellers overhead had been a godsend in its own way. Chris had sprinted for the hovering aircraft, at the end of his last clip, knowing he wouldn’t be able to withstand another wave. Nadia had pulled him into the back and then screamed over the roar of the helicopter for Leon, and Chris had expected Leon to be right behind him, except—

When he’d turned to see how close Leon was, he’d seen Leon wasn’t anywhere near them. Instead, Leon had been standing at the other end of the roof, hadn’t even moved after being tossed up there by the G-virus infected that was well into its final mobile stage, just a pulsing mass of unrecognizable flesh that was begging to tear them to pieces. The sight of Leon standing stock-still in front of that thing, arms useless at his sides, exposed and in perfect danger, had stopped Chris’s heart.

There had been a moment where Chris thought that maybe Leon had tricked him again— maybe Leon had intended to get Chris to the roof and then let himself be taken by whatever had chased them up there. There had been a moment where Chris had thought he’d genuinely failed and Leon was still looking to die. And in that moment, Chris had been mortally fucking afraid. 

He remembered Leon talking about being scared of split seconds decisions, scared of making the wrong one or not making it fast enough. Thinking was going to be the death of them both one day, so Chris hadn’t allowed himself to think. He’d checked the last five bullets to his name, kicked his boots of the gore weighing him down, pressed his hand to his comm and told Leon, “I’m coming after you.”

That had been enough to break Leon from the stupor.

_”Don’t you fucking dare, Redfield.”_

Chris had been ready to ignore Leon as always when Leon had lifted Mathilda, shot the infected five times in that disgusting fucking eye to give him a few seconds of breathing space, and then turned on his heel and running for the chopper. There hadn’t been words to describe the relief Chris had felt when Leon had made the jump up and Chris had caught the man by the hand, pulling him up alongside him in the carrier, where he belonged. Leon hadn’t looked Chris in the eye, vindictive of the moment of weakness they both knew Leon had just had, but Chris couldn’t bring himself to be upset with the other man. He couldn’t imagine what Leon was feeling. He just needed to make sure he could pull Leon back onto his feet whenever he fell.

Once they’d gotten a safe distance away, Chris had quietly made the calls and they’d heard the echoes of the mansion being blown into nothing. Leon hadn’t reacted— he’d only shut his eyes and turned away.

That was the end of Sherry Birkin. 

Not the ending she deserved, but she was being sent off with the love of a father.

Now they were stateside again after a short refuel, and Chris was bracing himself for an arduous debrief once they landed. BSAA’s O’Brian was coming for Chris once they landed atop the small DSO HQ building and Chris didn’t know who Leon was going to. He knew Leon lived in Virginia these days, and Chris had a pad there as well, a temporary one for whenever he was back home at the same time as Claire and they both wanted a familiar place to crash. Chris didn’t know where they were supposed to go from here, but the distance between him and Leon was off-putting and Chris was scared to try to get any closer. He knew Leon shouldn’t be left alone, but he also knew that men needed room to grieve. Chris just wished Leon would include him in that tiny space so Chris wouldn’t have to worry.

“Hope y’all ain’t expecting a warm welcome,” D.C. said over comms. “Since we weren’t exactly sanctioned, Switzerland isn’t very happy with us.”

“Who cares what Switzerland thinks?” Nadia asked. “Fucking neutrals.”

“Any report on who’s down there?” Leon asked, his first words spoken for the countless hours it took for them to get back to the states. Even Nadia looked startled and D.C. glanced back at Chris like they were facing some unknown adversary. Chris just shrugged.

“Uh, nothing,” D.C. replied. “No one reported officially. Why? You got someone you expecting?”

“Got quite a few people to avoid.” Leon settled back, expression uncomfortable. He probably had injuries he was refusing to tell them about, just like Chris. He’d probably fucked up a rib, but there was no way in hell Chris was gonna own up to it. Nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix. Chris’s attention was solely on Leon and the way he was holding himself, the pinch in his brow, the trail of dried blood down his neck. Chris didn’t want to step on any toes, but he had half a mind to anonymously report Leon’s head injury to anyone he could get. Who was Leon’s handler? Hannigan? Maybe she was his best bet.

“Coming down for a landing,” D.C. told them. Chris peered out the doors and saw the roof they were landing on— DSO really did have a small operation. Seemed like it consisted of Leon and, well, that was it. Everyone else that Chris knew of was dead, aside from Hannigan. Chris suddenly realized how fucking lonely that had to be. “O’Brian doesn’t look happy, man,” D.C. griped. 

Chris could see O’Brian, the gruff man with his arms crossed over his chest. Since Leon hadn’t exactly been sanctioned by _any_ organization, the job well done wasn’t going to come without its hangups. Sometimes Chris wished these people behind the desks could see what they survived, just once. Maybe then they’d understand that the risk and consequences were more than worth the reward of civilization having another night of peaceful sleep. There was a woman standing beside O’Brian, dark skinned and pretty, her expression more stern than O’Brian’s. Leon was looking at her like he wanted nothing more than to run away.

D.C. brought them down smoothly and Nadia jumped out first, hands up. “Don’t shoot with the laser eyes,” she joked, acting as a temporary distraction so Chris could handle Leon. Both members of Silver Dagger had been able to notice that Leon was more shaken by what they’d done in Switzerland than in New York. They knew something was different. They knew Leon needed a fucking break. D.C. bounded off after her and they started a rush of useless conversation, effectively keeping the woman and O’Brian at bay for a moment. As Leon stood with effort, Chris took the opportunity to take Leon’s elbow and hold him fast. 

“I want you to get your head checked out,” he told Leon. When Leon scowled at him, Chris hurried to explain. “Not that you’re not a badass and everything, Agent Kennedy, but that knock on the head put you out of commission in a way I’ve never seen before. Just give me some peace of mind and get it looked over.”

Leon yanked his elbow from Chris’s grip, surprising the larger man. “So it’s back to Agent, huh?” Leon asked, expression tight and unreadable. For a second, Chris was confused. Then he took a moment to keep from reacting sharply like he normally would have with the abrasive DSO operative to actually think about what Leon was saying.

Oh shit.

“I’m not going back on what I said,” Chris told Leon firmly, realizing that using the title had come off as an attempt to distance himself from Leon. “I’m here for you in every way you want me. But you just went through something really fucking traumatic and I don’t want be taking advantage of your…”

When Chris trailed off, Leon rolled his eyes. “You think I’m, what? Emotionally compromised or something?” That was a better phrase for it than Chris could have managed. “Jesus christ, Redfield, sometimes I think the only reason you’ve survived this long is because you’ve got a steel head and nothing in it for fucker’s to shoot.”

With that, Leon jumped from the helicopter and strode smoothly across the roof, all weakness and pain gone from his posture. Chris heard him tell the woman, “It’s finished,” before Leon was walking past her and off the roof entirely. The woman sputtered unhappily and followed Leon, surprisingly quick on stilettos. Chris watched him go, more than a little lost of where they’d go from here and taking a long moment to run over everything he’d said in an attempt to figure it out. It took Chris an even longer moment to realize he didn’t even have Leon’s number. 

“Goddammit,” he grumbled to himself before grabbing his bag and being the last to leave the helicopter. 

O’Brian moved D.C. and Nadia aside to face Chris and jab an angry finger in his direction. “You wanna explain to me why I have fucking Switzerland of all places complaining about you and that DSO operative destroying a building that was up for admittance to the historical society?”

Chris would actually rather admit to being injured and get a checkup than deal with this. “That place had been for sale for years! Historical society my ass.”

Beside him, Nadia shook her head and mouth for Chris to see: “Fucking neutrals.”

. . .

The DSO HQ was stuffy and stupid and Chris was glad to be leaving. 

O’Brian had kept him in one of those awful interrogation rooms and had him tell the tale of destruction three times over because he apparently had the feeling Chris had omitted things. He wasn’t wrong, of course, but there was no way in hell Chris was going to incriminate Leon and everything he’d gone through. Chris had left out everything deal with sex and suicide, deciding he’d deal with the fallout later if he found out Leon had disclosed everything and Chris was caught in a lie. Even if this were to get Chris up shit creek, it wasn’t like he’d tell O’Brian— or anyone— anyways. It was Leon’s business. Chris knew Leon would do the same for him, regardless of the risk.

Now that it was over, Chris was being kindly escorted by stuffy operatives that looked like they didn’t have high enough clearance to be privy to any of Chris’s work and were pissed about the fact. Chris tried not to let their gruff exteriors get to him. He probably would have been just as pissed to get a simple escort assignment for a guy that was probably nearly a foot taller than them both.

Stepping out of DSO HQ and into the sunlight of Virginia at five PM was disgruntling. Chris shielded his eyes from the light and realized he had no idea how he was getting home. He began to pat his duffel bag down for his phone to call for a cab when he heard the honk of a car horn. 

Chris looked up to see Claire leaning against a jeep, sunglasses atop her nose, not smiling.

Chris didn’t know if he was in trouble with his sister or not. For a moment, he was almost tempted to pretend he hadn’t heard her and take his chances with the surly guards, see if they put up a good fight if he insisted on heading back in. He could easily make up an excuse—finding Leon, for starters. O’Brian had refused to let Chris go after the man, informing Chris that Leon was in even bigger trouble than Chris was. Hardly seemed fair, considering the shit show Leon had saved them all from. Probably just as unfair as how Claire was treating the poor man.

Chris sighed and squared his shoulders before walking towards the jeep, giving a little wave. “Didn’t think you’d be stateside.”

“I’ve been back in the states since the funeral,” Claire said. Chris’s teeth clacked audibly shut. He should probably just give up on human communication for the next couple days at the rate he was going. Claire sighed and ran a hand through her familiar ponytail. “I’m picking you up,” she told Chris. “But I’m just dropping you off. I’ve got to catch a flight back into India in a couple hours.”

“Fair enough,” Chris said. “I’ll count myself lucky to see you at all.” Even for swallowing his foot, Chris knew his little sister needed him. Once he was within arm’s reach, Chris reached out and took Claire by her shoulders, pulling her solidly into his chest. Claire sunk into the embrace instinctively, hands coming up to fist in the back of Chris’s shirt over his shoulder blades, holding on tight. Chris rubbed her back and laid his free hand atop her head. “I’m so sorry, Claire,” he whispered between them. “I’m just so fucking sorry.”

Claire nodded and sniffled. They hugged for another second before Claire pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “You get shotgun by default,” she told him. “Don’t you dare complain about my driving. If you’ve really been with Leon these past couple days, then you should be grateful I’m behind the wheel, not him.”

“Leon only drove once and then didn’t ask for it again,” Chris said carefully, watching his sister, pinpointing the moment she understood what that meant. Leon giving up the wheel willingly was just as much of a warning light for her as it was for him, even with how angry Claire was. 

Claire didn’t say anything and climbed into the Jeep. Chris tossed his bag into the backseat and pulled himself in on the other side. Claire started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. The radio played some soft college music shit and Chris watched DSO HQ shrink into nothing through the rearview.

He really— wished he could have stayed behind for Leon.

The man had said something about being disavowed and that he was going to become nothing to no one. If Leon really was about to face the end of his DSO career, Chris wanted to be there for the man, a friendly shoulder and hopefully something more. And then Chris would approach O’Brian with Leon’s resume from Chris’s experience and get that man into the BSAA, because there was no way in hell this world was going to survive without the best damn monster-killer no longer in action. 

Chris didn’t even feel bad about bringing Leon back into the mess under a different insignia. He knew Leon didn’t want to leave the fight. They were both meant to go down swinging and Chris was positive that, even if DSO was dumb enough to let Leon go, the BSAA wouldn’t. He’d be a credit to the force.

“What are you looking at?”

Claire’s voice startled him from his thoughts. Chris tried to cover up the guilty expression that reflexively took over his face and scratched at his neck. Claire rolled his eyes at all of Chris’s obvious tells. “It’s Leon, isn’t it,” she said. “Jesus, Chris.”

“He doesn’t deserve the way you’re blaming him.”

Chris expected a fight. He was surprised when Claire sighed again and said, “You’re right. But I don’t really have anyone else to blame. Don’t even really know what happened.”

Chris paused, wondering if he could tell her. Well, scratch that, if he _should_ tell her. No amount of yellow tape was going to keep him from trying to make his sister feel better. “It’s not— pretty.”

“Of course it isn’t, Sherry fucking died.”

Chris wanted to smack himself.   
Claire sighed a third time. “That was harsh,” she said, grip tightening on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. I’m having a rough time coping.”

“Completely understandable,” Chris replied.

“I just—” Claire cut herself off, mouth a grim line as she watched the road. “He didn’t stay for the funeral, Chris. All we were told was that Sherry had been killed by people Leon had failed to defeat and the remains had been sent to him. And I know it’s not his fault, okay? I know it’s not. But I don’t have anyone else to be angry at.”

“You could be mad at the people who killed her?”

“They wouldn’t tell us who!” Claire cried out, smacking the steering wheel hard. “They wouldn’t tell us anything! And Leon— every time I asked him, he just clammed up. He stopped talking. I only got to see him once, before he left for god knows where, probably wherever you found him. I saw him for a grand total of ten minutes and he couldn’t even look at me. I just— the way he was acting. It told me he had a lot more to do with her death than I was being told and I didn’t have anyone to blame but him.”

Chris could understand that— the grief and need to find someone to project those uncontrollable emotions onto. When their parents had died, Chris remembered being generally angry at the world and how unsatisfying that anger had felt. He’d quickly turned it around and poured himself into giving his little sister a good life and ensuring she could go to university, but those few months where everything had been red with rage… He wasn’t going to forget those days anytime soon. “Leon doesn’t deserve that blame,” he told Claire softly. “And I can promise you, he beat himself up enough for you both.”

Claire shook her head, angry tears brimming in her eyes. “What did he do?” she finally asked. When Chris didn’t immediately answer, she clarified. “How bad did he let himself get?”

Chris knew he needed to choose his words wisely. He didn’t want Claire to be alarmed, but he couldn’t lie. If there was anyone left in Leon’s life that deserved to know the truth, it was Claire. “He stopped eating when he found Sherry the first time,” he told Claire. “And then when we found…” Chris shook his head, throat tight when remembering the way Leon had looked up at Sherry’s mangled body in that sickening blue liquid. “Claire, the only reason Leon is alive right now is because I refused to let him blow himself up with the fuckers that killed Sherry.”

Claire kept a stiff upper lip, even as a single tear spilled down her cheek. “He always was a glutton for punishment.”

“He feels a lot,” Chris said softly. “He’s not good at showing it. And he doesn’t always know how to handle it.” That much was obvious to even the most unfamiliar of people to Leon Kennedy.

“That’s what happens when you keep getting sent into the end of the world alone,” Claire said. “He’s had partners, yeah, but none of them planned, and they’ve always left in the end. Pretty ladies that knew how to take care of themselves, but not how to handle someone like Leon. The only time he’s been given an official partner also happens to be the time said partner betrayed him in grandiose dramatics. It’s not his fault that the most familiar people in the world to him are walking corpses.” Claire hit the steering wheel again, frustrated. “I’m so mad,” she choked out. “But now I can’t even be mad at him.”

“I know it’s hard,” and Chris did and Claire knew it. “But taking it out on Leon, when what he really needs right now is support? Being there for him is more important. He doesn’t have what we have, Claire.” He reached over the center console to rest his hand on Claire’s shoulder. “He doesn’t have a family. He doesn’t have— anyone. That I know of.”

“He’s got that mercenary that keeps yanking him around,” Claire said.

“Ada Wong?” Claire really didn’t know. “Ada Wong was the person who let it slip that Sherry was involved with the G-virus. Ada Wong is one of the main reasons why Sherry is gone.”

Claire fell silent.

“Leon’s not exactly happy with her,” Chris told her. “I don’t think there’s anything left between them, Claire. So no, he doesn’t have that mercenary that yanks him around. And he doesn’t have President Benford. He doesn’t have his partners. He doesn’t have Sherry. And he— he doesn’t think he has you.”

Claire’s breath hitched in her throat and another treacherous tear fell. “I’ll forgive him,” she said, voice shaking. “Not that he needs to be forgiven, but everything’s just so fucked that I have to take it as it comes. I promise, I’ll forgive him as soon as I can. He shouldn’t— Leon can’t be left alone. He was already in such a bad place before this, Chris. We need to call his handler—”

“He’s not alone,” Chris reassured her. And now he was coming to the crest of the problem. “I, uh— I never told you something that’s kinda important. Just know that I’m not going to let Leon be alone for this. He and I worked out some shit on this op. I’m not about to let him go.”

“If you’re talking about your big secret crush on Leon, then I’ve got news for you, dummy.”

Chris honestly shouldn’t be surprised. “Alright,” he said, squirming in his seat, cheeks warm. “Okay. So. The big secret crush isn’t exactly a secret to you or Leon anymore.” When Claire sighed for probably the millionth time at this point, Chris winced. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Hardly,” she said. “I’m just wondering how I missed Leon apparently having a big crush of his own. The guy is like a brick wall at the best of times these days. You know, when we first met? That man was all smiles. Every time I saw him, even when there was a locked gate between us and zombies going for our throats, just all fucking smiles. Made me wonder what he had to go through to let him be so fucking cheerful even at what looked like the end of the world.”

Chris hadn’t thought of that.

“Leon Kennedy’s a good man,” Claire said. “And I swear to god, Chris, if you hurt him? I’ll make you regret it.”

“I thought you were mad at him,” Chris teased, happy to see a little more of his baby sister outside of the mourning.

“Oh, I am,” Claire said. “But I also realize that I’m being completely unreasonable and even a little irrational about it. So trust me when I say that I’ll kick your ass from here to Timbuktu if you break that man’s heart.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Claire nodded. “Good,” she said. “Good. Leon deserves someone like you.”

“And what? Is Leon Kennedy too good for me?”

“Damn right.”

Chris grinned, proud of the hurdles his sister had already leaped. Once she put her mind to something— once she saw an injustice— she was always the quickest to act. One of the many reasons why he was so proud of her. “You know, while I was with the guy, I discovered he has a bit of a self esteem problem. Any ideas on how I should fix it?”

Claire made a face. “I don’t want to think about your sex life, Chris.”

Chris sputtered, going completely red. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Really?”

“No!”

“Oh.” Claire shrugged. “Well then, I’ll change my answer— pin him down and dick him down, big brother. Leon doesn’t think words are real. Actions are the only thing he’ll believe. Make that man feel like a real woman in the only way a Redfield can.”

Chris couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Somewhere along the line, I fucked up terribly raising you.”

“If you’re going to be two-faced, Chris, at least make one of them pretty.”

Chris was speechless. Claire pulled up in front of their townhouse with perfect timing. She smiled sweetly over at him and leaned over the console to give him a kiss on the cheek. The she reached into the pocket of his cargo pants for his phone— and of course it was in the one place Chris hadn’t thought to check— and unlocked it, going into his contacts.

“There we go,” she said after a moment, handing the phone back. Chris looked down to see Leon’s name and a number staring back up at him. “I’m not sure why he didn’t come out of HQ with you if you guys are suddenly _something_ , air-quotes intended, but I know he’ll appreciate the call regardless.” She paused. “Are you guys something?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Chris admitted while staring at Leon’s name and fighting back the ache of missing the other man. “But I want to be. He’s in a bad place and I don’t know when would be the right time to make him start making plans for a future he didn’t count on having.” As Claire began to look distressed, Chris rushed to console. “I’m not going to let anything happen to him,” he assured her. “He’s pretty much stuck with me for the rest of his life now.”

“Like white on rice,” Claire said, giving Chris a firm nod. “You take care of him for me. Let him know that I don’t hold… I know it wasn’t his fault. I just need some time. He’ll understand that.”

“He will,” Chris agreed. Then he reached out to loop his arm around his sister’s neck and pull her in for one of his famous bear hugs, bone crushing squeeze and all. “I love you, Claire,” he said with a laugh as she squirmed and tried to escape. “Take care of yourself.”

When Claire finally wrestled herself from Chris’s grip, she smacked his arm and blew a strand of hair from her face, somehow looking adorable even when upset. “Of course I will, it’s you I should be worried about,” she huffed. “Don’t let Leon beat himself up too much. And definitely don’t let anyone else beat up on him. Use those big muscles to defend our surly prince charming, yeah?”

“Is that what you call him?” Chris asked incredulously. 

“Only when he can’t hear me,” Claire replied with a wink. “Go on, Chris. You need a shower.”

“Is that why you hate my hugs?”

“Only one of many reasons.”

Chris laughed and reached into the back for his duffel, opening the passenger door. “Text me when you land safely,” he told her. “And then send Leon a text. You don’t need to worry— I don’t think he’ll have the courage to respond no matter what you say.”

“I wish you were wrong,” she groaned. As Chris dropped out of the Jeep and searched in the duffel for one of the many sets of keys he kept, Claire called out to him one last time. When Chris gave her his attention, she said, “Thank you for making sure I didn’t keep my head in my ass for too long. I knew Leon wasn’t really to blame I just— couldn’t see clearly.” She grimaced, obviously unhappy with herself. “I’ll be better one day. Just make sure he is too.”

Chris gave her a mock salute. “On my life, Claire.”

“See to it, Soldier,” she responded jokingly. “And don’t eat pasta three nights in a row! Get some fucking variety in your diet, jesus.” 

Chris slammed the Jeep door shut in retaliation and Claire blew a kiss as she drove away. Chris— felt pretty fucking good. He had the right keys in his hand and Leon’s number in his contacts. He was going to go inside, get clean, _eat some pasta to spite Claire_ , and then finally figure out where he and Leon were going from here. All in all, the happiest ending Chris felt he could expect out of the shit show that was his daily life. 

. . .

Settling back into civilian life, however temporary, was always a bit of a chore that Chris liked to start with a change of clothes and a hot shower. The water running off his skin, clean and heated with modern technology, was always a world away from the conditions he existed in when deployed. There wasn’t exactly a surplus of five to three star hotels willing to hole up BSAA operatives that always orbited an apocalypse, and Chris had long ago made himself get used to washing down in a barrel if he was lucky. Now, though, he was in his shower with the rainfall shower head and the heated tile and good music bumping from a radio by the sink, leagues better than the shit Claire listened to. Chris always wished he’d been able to get Claire into Outkast, but she was too stubborn to know what made decent music if it slapped her upside the head. 

Chris sang along to _Ms. Jackson_ , loud and off-key on purpose, wiggling his bares hips to the beat and letting himself unwind. He had a plan for after this shower. Make some spaghetti and then draft a fantastic text to Leon, telling him all of the wonderful things that Leon was to him and grand detail of the date Chris had already planned for them so Leon wouldn’t have to lift a finger. And then Chris would call up O’Brian and get him started on Leon’s recruitment process. Even for whatever had happened this op, O’Brian would trust Chris when he said that Leon was nowhere near a liability and the best person they could ever hope to have on the BSAA. Leon would be under BSAA’s globe without a hitch, Chris was sure. And from there, Chris would watch a flick, maybe catch up on his sleep, and anticipate the moment when Leon was finally able to remember Chris existed. 

It wasn’t like Chris was going to take a couple hours of radio silence from the DSO Agent personally. Chris had spent six months with amnesia, and even that hadn’t felt like a long enough break to recover from what he’d been through. Chris was going to give Leon all the time in the world, happily.

Chris finished rinsing the shampoo from his hair, still singing along terribly. He was feeling pretty fucking good about his life right now and he couldn’t wait to get the ball rolling. He had so many plans, so many things he wanted to do. He was figuring Leon wasn’t going to reach out for a while, so Chris was already mentally going through his tackle box, thinking of what he would and wouldn’t need for a long overdue fishing trip. He wondered if Leon knew how to fish or if he’d even have the patience to learn. Leon seemed like the kind of man who’d rather use a stick of dynamite than a fishing rod. Chris grinned at the idea and made a mental note to bring it up to Leon whenever he got the chance. He’d love to teach Leon something knew, even if it meant Leon would just find a way to do it faster. 

Chris stepped out of the shower after switching off the water and toweled off before stepping into a pair of huge, extremely baggy, extremely comfortable sweatpants. Rarely did he ever get to wear anything that wasn’t tight around his thighs, even BSAA-issued combat cargo pants hugging a little too tightly. Chris stretched his arms lazily to the bathroom ceiling, scrunched his toes into the bathroom rug, and breathed easy. Finally, he could relax. His first day off in god knew how long, first day without some lingering filth clinging to his body. First day feeling human again. He was out to gorge himself on pasta and watch whatever game was on and maybe— just maybe— have himself a little personal time and not feel guilty about having a certain DSO Agent occupying his imagination for the most of it. Fuck yeah, everything was turning up Chris. 

As he left his bathroom while texting O’Brian about the Leon situation, his doorbell rang and all the relaxed vibes leeched from his bones. Chris groaned loudly, turned his eyes up to the ceiling again— towards god, the fucking asshole— and silently asked why. Why the fuck couldn’t he just get a moment of peace and quiet? Why couldn’t he just have a lazy afternoon and jack off without having interruption? What the fuck was Jill doing that made Chris such a sought after person?

He wanted a fucking cigarette. 

Chris ran his hands over his face, convinced himself he was still dedicated to quitting cigarettes for Claire’s sake, and then groaned again when the doorbell rang a second time. “Coming!” he shouted, forgoing a shirt because fuck whoever was behind that door, they were disrupting his much needed break and they were going to suffer the awkward consequences. After all, it could only be someone from the government coming after him for something, one way or the other. No one else had this address.

Chris ruffled his damp hair, heaved a huge sigh, and threw open the door, letting the chilly air hit his bare skin as he schooled his face into one of gruff detachment. The expression didn’t last long when he saw Leon at his doorstep, the smaller man going beet red as he stared at Chris’s chest. “Okay,” Leon said, sounding stunned. “Definitely not complaining, but can I ask why you’re answering the door half naked?”

“I didn’t think it would be you,” Chris admitted, feeling the cold air a little more now. He knew he didn’t look _bad_ — Chris worked out to maintain peak physique for his work and looking good was merely a side-effect— but he couldn’t help feel like he was still somehow in Leon’s shadow. Leon was effortlessly gorgeous in a way that Chris always felt like he couldn’t measure up to no matter how long he spent in the gym. “I don’t mind that it’s you,” Chris said, hoping Leon didn’t feel like Chris wanted him to leave. “I just— this address isn’t exactly public. So I wasn’t expecting anyone that didn’t have access to my files and shit.”

“Claire gave it to me,” Leon replied stiffly. “And, uh, since this place really isn’t that far from DSO HQ and definitely not out of my way, I thought… Well.” Leon trailed off, looking uncomfortable as he scratched at the back of his neck. “It— isn’t important. If you’re busy, I’ll go.”

Chris had an inkling of why Leon was avoiding the truth. The other man probably didn’t feel safe on his own, didn’t feel like he was in a good enough place to risk isolation. “Come stay with me a bit,” he told Leon, opening the door wider, beckoning him inside. “I’ll get a shirt on, don’t worry.”

“Don’t get dressed on my account,” Leon said as he walked inside, his steps jilted like he didn’t want to seem too eager. Then he winced. “I mean— or do. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. And it’s your house. I’m not— like that. I’m.” Leon let out a frustrated noise and moved past Chris into the townhouse, shutting himself up. 

Chris felt bad for the guy. Not only was he suddenly in the dark about his entire future, his home meant to be on the market in a week, his standing as a DSO operative shaky, his painstakingly built family in shambles, but he was also diving headfirst into a relationship with another man for the first time. Leon probably had no idea what to do and since he couldn’t exactly solve all of these problems with a gun like he normally would, he likely had no clue what to do first. Chris wasn’t sure where Leon would accept his help, but he knew he would have to be the one to extend the hand.   
“Have dinner with me,” Chris said. “I make a mean spaghetti, but I could always make penne if you want to mix things up. And then we can talk.” At Leon’s owlish look for the t-word, Chris gave him an easy smile as he passed the other man to go up the half stairs that led back towards the bedroom and bathroom. “Nothing serious!” he promised, raising his voice a little as he got out of earshot. “Just negotiations, Agent Kennedy. A seasoned operative like you will think it’s cake.” Chris rifled through his drawers for the few spare clothes he kept in the place. He settled on a Nas hoodie. He wondered what kind of music Leon liked. “Put some tunes on!” he called out. “Just say Alexa and tell her what you want!”

There was a pause as Chris wrestled on the hoodie before the soft sounds of fucking Arcade Fire of all things filled the home. Chris grinned to himself, not at all surprised. He was pretty partial to the latest album— never before had the word “shit” sounded so gorgeous as it did in _Electric Blue._ It seemed fitting that this would be something Leon enjoyed. Unique and catchy with just enough angst to fit Leon’s hair and fashion sense. Affection swelled in Chris’s chest. He hoped he got to learn a lot more of these minuscule things about Leon over the coming days. 

Chris left the bedroom to find Leon standing in the kitchen with wide eyes. Poor guy was eyeing the fridge like it was some sort of puzzle he had to solve. Claire insisted on keeping their utilities in here as updated as possible, so even Chris barely knew how to use the fridge that was apparently “smart.”

“I know how to open it and how to get it to give me water,” Chris said as he strode through his home. “Don’t ask me about ice, though, that thing can give you five different types and they all look the same to me.”

“I think it talked to me,” Leon said. 

Chris paused and stared at his fridge. “Did you ask it something?”

“I didn’t say a god damn word and it started telling me the weather.”

Chris nodded slowly, unable to look away from the appliance. “Got a good priest on speed dial?”

“All of them are dead.”

“Damn.” Chris went to the cupboards to pull out a glass. “I’ve got harder shit if you’d rather not drink from the demon’s faucet.”

“Please.”

Chris nodded as he went into the freezer for vodka, knowing he had some mango tea in the fridge that probably hadn’t expired. Claire ordered groceries to the place periodically in case either of them made an impromptu stay. “You weren’t drinking in Italy or Switzerland— thought maybe you’d cut yourself off.”

He heard Leon’s scowl. “I don’t drink on the job, Chris.”

Of course he wouldn’t, Leon wasn’t that stupid and Chris was an idiot for thinking so. But still— “You didn’t have a flask.”

Leon didn’t respond. Chris finished pouring the shot of vodka before mixing it with the chaser that expired in three days, which was perfect. When Chris turned around to hand Leon his drink, he saw that the man was leaning against the counter, staring at the floor with his brow knit in some kind of duress. Chris hesitated, then set the glass down on the marble counter. “You good, Leon?”

“I lied to you,” Leon said. “About some stuff. A lot of stuff.”

Chris had figured. “It’s okay,” he replied. “I get that you weren’t in a great place. It’s not like you were ever going to get anyone else hurt. As much as I hate what you tried to do to yourself, not once did you purposefully or even accidentally endanger me or D.C. or Nadia. You really did intend to just— go down quietly.” If explosions could be considered quiet.

“Uh-huh.” Leon ran a hand through his hair. Even like this, despondent and worn down, he was gorgeous, standing in the middle of Chris’s kitchen, backlit by the lazily setting sun. Chris felt the urge to reach out and take Leon into his arms, pull him close and do— do _something._ He didn’t know what, but he knew he wanted. He told himself to be patient. Leon had kissed him first, after all. The other man would be setting the pace, but it wasn’t like Leon to keep things in stasis forever. Chris just had to be patient. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Chris told him gently. “Just know that I understand, okay? At least to the extent I’m capable of understanding. I don’t know what you’re going through, not perfectly, but I know what it’s like to want to give up.”

His confession had Leon looking up with surprise. “You do?” he asked, voice low. “Since when did Chris Redfield feel like throwing in the towel?”

“The first time?” Chris shrugged. “Probably my amnesia trip in Edonia.”

“But that wasn’t entirely you,” Leon argued. “The trauma of what you went through took the choice away from you. You didn’t choose to have amnesia. It’s not like people choose to block out traumatic memories. It’s a coping mechanism.”

“But I fought against remembering,” Chris replied gently. “And it took one of my own men to drag me out of it.”

Leon nodded. “Piers.”

“I’m surprised you know him.”

Leon shrugged. “You and him were a thing.”

Chris flushed at the memory, unable to lie and say Leon was wrong. “Not officially,” he hedged. “Not even on paper and not to each other. We were just— moments of convenience. You know what adrenaline does to a man. How the crash can leave us. The man had saved my life more than once and it was just…”

As words failed him, Leon filled in the gaps. “Brothers in arms,” he said. “Someone you could trust.”

Chris nodded. “Like Buddy was for you.”

Leon grimaced. “I lied to you, Chris.”

Since Leon admitted this immediately after Chris brought up Buddy, he could only assume what Leon had lied about. “I won’t judge you for lying about having been with another man,” Chris said even as jealousy poured into his chest. He wasn’t going to say he was possessive, but the idea of being Leon’s first in something like this had been electrifying. Chris couldn’t hold it against Leon for being his own person, but—

“Jesus, why would I lie about that?” Leon asked, derailing Chris’s train of thought. “If anything, wouldn’t I rather brag and say I had? It’s not like you and I have some macho exterior to upkeep. You already told me you were bi, what would have been the harm in me saying I’d fumbled around with a man?” Leon shook his head, looking back to the floor, that storm overtaking his expression again. “I lied about what happened to him.” Then Leon reached into his back pocket and pulled out some folded up sheets of paper. He laid it on the island that was to their left and didn’t look at Chris. Chris raised a brow, then reached out and took the papers, unfolding them carefully. 

It was a report, standard write up after a debrief, rehashing everything in shorthand like they were trained to do. Most of the shit had been blacked out with black marker, the unfortunate aftermath of their work. But Chris could read some of it, specifically the name Alexander Kozachenko. “That’s a fucking name,” he said, figuring Leon would know what he meant since it was one of the only things not blacked out.

“That’s Sasha,” Leon said stiffly. “Buddy.”

Chris nodded and kept reading what he could, getting to the end of the report in no time because there really wasn’t much. He read Leon’s short phrasing of putting down Alexander, the last plaga infected with the master status. Chris looked at the report a little longer, not reading, but studying the way the pen seemed to be harsher with those words, like Leon had nearly forced the pen through the page. 

“I lied,” Leon said again. When Chris looked up to him for more, Leon hid behind his hair. “Buddy isn’t dead.  
Now that— was sort of a big deal. “He’s dead in the report,” he told Leon, hoping the other man understood what he was risking if he told Chris the truth. If Leon kept this to himself, then no one would ever find out, no one around to point to Leon as guilty. But if it somehow slipped and Chris were to be someone in the know who could (and would be forced) to testify to the truth being told to him, Leon would be in deep water. 

“I trust you,” Leon said. 

Well, fuck. Chris couldn’t argue with that.

“He’s not dead,” Leon told him. “I’m not a doctor, but I’m good enough at killing to know how to avoid death entirely. I shot his spine, destroyed the part that was Plaga infected with minimal paralysis. He’s able to use his upper half, his arms and shit. He’s in a wheelchair now. He’s a teacher again.”

Chris nodded along, wondering why Leon had felt the need to lie about this. If anything, Leon should have been proud. Being able to make a shot to keep alive one of the many people that deserved to survive these hellholes? Chris knew Leon wasn’t one to brag, but this wasn’t something to shoved under the rug either. “Any reason why?”

Leon was silent for another long moment. “I didn’t… want to be a hypocrite.”

Chris didn’t understand. He folded the report back up and leaned against a counter opposite of Leon, giving him ample space and time. While Leon agonized of what he wanted to say, Chris made a note to try and reach out to this Alexander Kozachenko. It would be good for Leon to see an old friend— proof of the good of his efforts and that they really could make a difference.

“I told you how it happened.” Leon was finally able to continue. “He’d had the Plaga and he was scared of becoming a monster. He’d had his gun beneath his chin and I took it from him and told him that once we started using our weapons to fight, we owed it to the people we’d loss to keep fighting, no matter what. Taking our own lives was no longer our choice to make. Our lives— weren’t our own to take. And I told him this with such stupid certainty that when I made the choice to die there with Sherry, I had to keep telling myself Buddy was gone so I wouldn’t feel like such a piece of shit for going back on my word like that.”

Chris ached for the other man. “If he really was your friend, or something close, he wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“He would,” Leon denied. “And he’d have every right to. God, I’d even welcome it. Sometimes I need a good punch to the eye to see shit clearly.”

Chris made a face. “I don’t like hitting people.”

“I don’t know about that,” Leon murmured. “Your right swing was pretty damn good back in Italy.”

Chris winced, hating the reminder. “How’s the bruise?”

“Hurts.” Leon shrugged. “I deserved it. I goaded you. I deserved that hit just as much as I’ll deserve whatever Buddy does to me if he finds out what I tried to do. He’s in a wheelchair, but I’ve seen that fucker with a gun. He’d probably wheel over my feet and break my fucking toes if nothing else.”

The fondness in Leon’s voice spoke volumes. “You really admire him,” Chris said softly. Then, “You said nothing happened, but since he’s alive— do you— are you having second thoughts?”

“About what?” Leon asked. When Chris gave an embarrassed shrug, Leon snorted a laugh. “About fucking him? Chris, it wasn’t like that. You said it yourself. Never fall for the straight guy. And I—god, I don’t think I deserve someone like him.”

Chris grabbed a fork from the drawer beside him and threw it at Leon’s head. Leon dodged it, as Chris knew he would, but the wide eyes of shock still said Chris’s intentions were loud and clear. “Sorry,” Chris said with false sincerity. “As I’ve discovered your abysmal self esteem, I’m going to start exploring different methods of retraining you. I’m guessing projectiles is a no go?”

“Self esteem?” Leon asked, flabbergasted. “What the fuck?”

“You deserve the god damn world, Leon Kennedy,” Chris said firmly. “You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted in your most selfish of moments. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be safe. And you definitely deserve to get laid by the guy that you saved, if he’s willing.”

Leon’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink and Chris was undeniably smitten. “I-I didn’t bring him up to be like, ‘wow, look what could have happened,’” Leon said with an adorable stammer. “I brought it up because I don’t like lying to you and I— need to— show you something.”

The halted words had Chris’s interest as Leon reached into his back pocket again and pulled out folded photo paper. Leon set it down delicately on the island next to the folded files, showing that he cared about whatever this was much more than he cared about the report. Chris looked to Leon for permission, which Leon gave with a nod. Chris reached out and took the photo, carefully undoing the folds, revealing the image slowly so as to avoid tearing anything. 

The photo was of a man standing tall, a gruff expression on his face, looking away from the photographer. In the foreground, blurred to allow the focus on the man beyond, was a hand with thick fingers and strong knuckles giving the first man in the shot the middle finger. In the background the skyline of crumbled houses and old architecture was red and smoky, common effects of a city in the middle of a war. 

The man in the image, though, the man in focus— he was definitely attractive, Chris could see that from a universal standing. His face was cut and strong and his eyes hard with determination. His dark hair was short and choppy, a quick cut done by someone who didn’t have enough time to do anything with his hair expect keep it out of his eyes. His lips were set in a grim line, but still somehow appealing. He wore a v-neck shirt beneath a brown jacket, the definition of his chest and collarbone on display. He was definitely a man to be reckoned with, a man who Chris could see standing tall next to Leon as more than just a fellow soldier.

Chris turned the photo over, saw two names. “Sasha, taken by JD.” “Well shit,” Chris said. “I really don’t blame you for wanting this guy, straight or not.” When Leon raised a brow, though, Chris realized he hadn’t gotten it right. Leon hadn’t shown him the photo so Chris would know he had taste. “Uh— he looks like a badass?”

“Jesus christ,” Leon said. “He looks like you, Chris.”

Chris’s eyes shot back down to the photo and realized that Leon was right— they weren’t twins, but they were similar. Strong jaw, broad shoulders, dark hair, stern eyes. Chris liked to think he had a little more muscle in his legs, but he could definitely see the similarities. Chris cleared his throat and carefully set the photo back down. “So?” he asked, going for nonchalance, unable to read what Leon was trying to tell him. “I’m pretty mundane, as far as men go. Nothing like you.”

Leon picked up the fork Chris had thrown at him and chucked it at Chris’s head. Chris jerked to the side to avoid being hit and thought over his words, realizing he was guilty of the same thing he’d chastised Leon for. “Huh.”

“I lied,” Leon said. It seemed like it would be a night of confessions for him. “I told you that he was the only man I’d ever thought about being with— that’s not the truth.”

Chris’s breath caught in his throat as he finally made the connection. Maybe Leon had been attracted to Buddy for more than just his looks, but the initial connection had been made in his mind because—

“I wanted Buddy because he reminded me of you,” Leon told Chris, echoing the conclusion he was finally making. “I’ve wanted you for as long as I’ve known your name, Chris Redfield, but I told myself I would never have the chance.” Chris’s heart hammered in his chest from the way Leon was looking at him. Those green eyes had never looked so dark. Leon shuddered a breath. “And back in the Eastern Slavic Republic? Even Buddy, who was avenging his dead fiancée, seemed a lot more attainable than you ever have.”

Chris pushed off the counter. “What are you standards for me taking your virginity?”

“Jesus Christ,” Leon breathed as he pushed off as well, moving to meet Chris.

“Bed? Sofa? Table?” Chris listed, reaching out for Leon. “Counter?”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who gives a shit?” Leon asked as he strode across the floor and took Chris’s face in his hands to pull him down for a searing kiss. “Just take me somewhere,” Leon growled against his lips, nibbling on the lower one, moving in Chris’s arms as if he wanted to climb Chris like a tree. Leon looped a leg around Chris’s knee and lifted himself higher to push harder into the kiss. He stole Chris’s breath and Chris knew immediately that Leon was going to be a handful. 

“Sorry if I like to get things right,” Chris teased as he held Leon’s jaw and deepened the kiss, trying to slow this down. He didn’t know what kind of adrenaline crash Leon was coming out of, but Chris wanted to make this more than just a survival fuck. He wanted to take care of the other man, let him feel something other than the ever-present awful that had been haunting him for days. Chris looped his arms around Leon’s waist and held him tight against his chest, refusing to let Leon squirm out of his grip. “Easy, Agent,” Chris murmured as Leon let out this whine. “We have all night and then some. I’ve got you.”

If anything that only seemed to rile Leon up more. He took a fistful of Chris’s short hair and yanked his head back to seal his lips to the column of Chris’s neck, nipping at the flesh, warmth curling low in Chris’s stomach. He groaned softly, but refused to go back on his own words. Leon was dead set on leaving marks in Chris’s skin and Chris was loathe to stop him, and yet someone had to be the adult between them. Leon’s grip in his hair was strong, but Chris was stronger. He pulled his head from Leon’s grip and took the man by the hips, lifting him up and off his feet without a hitch. Leon let out this yelp that Chris found absolutely _adorable_ and Chris laughed as Leon wrapped his arms around Chris’s neck to keep from falling. “Did you just fucking—”

Chris dropped Leon onto the counter before he could finish, standing between Leon’s knees and kissing him again. “It’s so strange,” he murmured into the other man, feeling the pleased noise that rumbled through Leon’s chest. “When we were like this back in Switzerland, you tasted so different.”

Leon frowned against Chris’s lips, pulling back just a little to look at him. Jesus christ, they were barely getting their hands on one another and Leon was already a ruffled, gorgeous mess. His lips were slick and red against his pale skin, green eyes gleaming as he squinted down at Chris like he was confused. “I tasted _what?_ ”

“Different,” Chris repeated, running his hands down Leon’s back and taking him by the swell of his ass to pull Leon down the counter. “You tasted like adrenaline and blood. Like fear. Like the fight. You don’t taste like that now.” Leon’s brow was furrowed in dazed bewilderment as he kept trying to lean in and get his mouth on Chris’s neck again, but Chris refused, distracting him with little pecks and squeezing Leon’s ass in slow, undulating rolls of his hand. Leon’s hips began to move with his touch, pressing into Chris’s stomach. “Now you taste like toothpaste,” Chris told him with a crooked grin as Leon caught on, grinding into Chris’s stomach on instinct. If there was one thing Chris knew about grieving men, it was that sex was probably the best temporary antidepressant. “I like it.”

“You got some weird fucking kink I don’t know about?” Leon asked as he gripped Chris’s shoulders for purchase and sought friction, breath coming a little harsher as Chris felt the other man harden against his abdomen. “Talking about taste and shit— we’re bodies, we taste like corpses, Redfield.”

“When the fuck have you tasted a corpse, Kennedy?” Chris shot back, reaching down between their bodies to palm the front of Leon’s jeans, watching the way his gorgeous face scrunched up at the first real taste of pleasure. “You sound like you’re the one with a weird kink.”

“Shit blows up, what can I do?” Leon asked breathlessly as the rolling of his hips became sharper, pressing into Chris’s hand. “You ever fought a fucking Whopper, back in Tall Oaks? Shit’s fucking nasty. And then there’s also the fact that when this all first started I took a dive into an organ infested sewer and— fucking hell, Chris are you even listening?”

Chris was, in fact, not listening at all. He had his teeth against Leon’s collarbone and his hand stroking the bulge through the denim, enjoying the way he could feel every muscle in Leon’s body tighten and release in rhythm. “You feel so fucking good,” Chris moaned into Leon’s pulse. Leon let out this noise and his fingers were back in Chris’s hair, holding on and thrusting into his hand.

“Is this another kink?” Leon asked breathlessly. Chris nodded an affirmation and sunk his teeth into where Leon’s jaw connected to his shoulder. The man shuddered against him and gasped. “You’re one of the infected,” Leon groaned, petting Chris’s hair. “I fucking knew it. Gonna turn me, Redfield?”

“Why is that hot?” Chris asked. 

“It’d be hotter if you were inside me.”

Chris had to shut his eyes for a moment to brace against the pure _need_ that laced through his body at Leon’s casual statement. “You have no idea,” he confessed, hypnotized by the movements of Leon’s body, who was still grinding against him. Chris wasn’t giving him much relief, only acting as a warm body to get off against. He knew Leon wanted more, he just hadn’t thought he would want _that._ “God, Leon— I want you so fucking bad.”

“Then fucking take me,” Leon shot back. “How do we do this?”

Chris’s eyes flew wide open in shocked realization— Leon hadn’t ever done this before. Leon had never been with a man, never been touched by one like this, never been fucked. And Chris was just going to get him off in the kitchen like it wasn’t important, like it meant nothing? Like Leon meant nothing? Fuck that. “We’re going to the bed,” he told Leon. Leon’s undulating stopped abruptly, the other man obviously thrown off. Chris ran his tongue over the spot he’d bit and brought his hands up to Leon’s back, rubbing in slow, soothing circles. “Do I need to carry you?”

“Why the fuck are we moving?”

Chris hummed softly. “This is your first time.”

The fingers in Chris’s hair pulled Chris’s head back. Leon frowned down at him, looking confused again. “What?” Chris asked. “I wanna do it right.”

“You were the one who made the joke in the beginning about taking my virginity,” Leon reminded him. “Which, by the way, is fucking hilarious. Losing my virginity at over forty years old? Not even Hollywood went that far.”

“Let me take care of you, Leon,” Chris pleaded softly, not rising to the bait. “Let me make it good for you.”

“Why can’t you just do it on this counter?”

“I will carry you if I have to, Agent Kennedy.”

“You’ve been feeling my dick up this whole time, you know I’m not a girl.”

Chris let out a noise of exasperation before taking Leon’s thighs and forcing his legs to hook around Chris’s waist. “This is your only warning,” Chris said before wedging his hands beneath Leon’s ass and lifting. Leon’s arms went tight around his neck again, the smaller man letting out a tiny little shriek as he was brought into the air. Leon still wasn’t back at his optimal weight, but Chris also liked to think he worked out enough to be able to easily carry the man. Leon was hard against Chris’s stomach, Chris’s own erection reacting positively to the feeling of Leon’s body against him like this, his limbs wrapped around, his breath on Chris’s skin. “I thought you’d be used to be manhandled.”

“I’m used to being manhandled by monsters, not sexy men with biceps the size of my fucking head,” Leon complained. “If you drop me, I’m drop-kicking you.”  
Chris laughed and easily walked them to the bedroom, happy that Leon wasn’t going to fight him on this. Everything they were going to need was in the bedroom, after all. Chris kicked open the door, laughed again when Leon squeaked as Chris’s grip shifted. “Give me some credit!” Chris said as Leon threatened to break his neck with how tightly he was holding on. Leon’s feet were hooked around Chris’s back, like some overgrown Koala bear holding onto a tree in a storm. “I’d never let you fall,” Chris told Leon with a cheesy grin and a kiss to the skin below Leon’s pulse. 

“Hallmark has poisoned you,” Leon grumbled. 

“Well, if you really think I’m not strong enough to carry you, then I guess I better meet your expectations.” With that, Chris reached back to undo Leon’s hold around his neck. Leon fell with a yelp, landing safely on his back on the mattress, legs still around Chris’s waist. Leon looked grumpy, hair splayed out around his head on the sheets, and Chris was going to laugh until Leon used his leverage, arched his spine, and rubbed his ass against the curve of Chris’s hard cock through his sweatpants. Chris’s eyes went wide as Leon smiled deviously up at him. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“Gonna do something about it?” Leon asked, showing off the strength in his thighs and abs as he used them to grind into Chris. Chris groaned softly, feeling little relief from the teasing friction. His neglected cock was straining against the soft material of the sweatpants and he couldn’t stop himself from meeting Leon’s thrusts, taking Leon by the hips to hold him up, pressing into Leon’s ass in some mockery of the real thing. Leon chuckled and Chris looked down to see the deviousness falling away into some heady. “Show me how,” Leon beckoned, fingers fisting in the sheets, his shirt falling down his torso to reveal miles of skin, abs working to keep up the grind. Chris would have been impressed if he weren’t so turned on. “Teach me.”

“You’re the devil,” Chris accused.

“And you love me,” Leon teased.

“I do.” When Chris so readily agreed, Leon’s confidence fell away, a faint blush coming across his cheeks that wasn’t part of exertion. Chris took the momentary lull in his attention to push Leon further up the bed, back to where the throw pillows still rested against the headboard. “I love you, Leon,” he said firmly, not letting himself forget why they were doing this or what had led up to it. “I’m so happy I finally have you.”

Leon was bright red now, rendered momentarily speechless. Chris grinned and grabbed the bottom of his own hoodie, yanking it off from over his head. Leon’s eyes shot down from Chris’s gaze to his chest, that flush stretching far beyond his face now. “Michelangelo would have a stroke if he saw someone as perfect as you.”

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Leon narrowed his eyes. “Shut up and fuck me, Redfield.”

Chris held up his hands in mock defense. “That’s not how this works, you know that, right?” Wait, shit, Leon probably didn’t. As far as Chris knew, Leon’s only true experience was god damn Agapito of all the disgusting men in the world. “You’ve had sex,” Chris said, lowering his voice, going for gentle intimacy. “You know people don’t just bump uglies and call it a day.”

The flush persisted on Leon’s cheeks. “I know that,” he defended. “I just— didn’t know if it would be the same.”

“Foreplay isn’t gender specific,” Chris told him softly, going down onto the mattress on his knees, settling between Leon’s spread legs, letting him adjust to the way the bed sunk beneath Chris’s weight. Chris sat back on folded legs and laid his hands on Leon’s calves, pressing his thumbs into the muscles. Leon was tense in his grip. He was probably nervous. “Grab the shit under that pillow, “ he said, jerking his head to the pillow that was to Leon’s right. “I’m gonna show you everything, okay? Trust me.”

Leon’s lips were a tight line as he nodded and reached beneath the pillow where Chris kept his lube. Chris waited patiently for Leon to grab it, still just massaging the muscles in Leon’s lower legs. Leon let out this noise of confusion and Chris looked up, expecting to have to give some sort of explanation. Then Chris’s thoughts froze when he saw Leon hadn’t grabbed the lube— he’d grabbed Chris’s fucking gun. The Samurai Edge he’d kept from S.T.A.R.S., the firearm he had under his pillow for paranoia’s sake. It was Chris’s turn to be embarrassed. “I can explain.”

“I would fucking hope so,” Leon said, the gun resting comfortably in Leon’s skilled grip. “It’s not loaded— there’s not even a clip. What are you gonna do, ask the intruder to wait patiently while you find bullets?” Leon shook his head, obviously upset with Chris’s lack of efficiency. “Nightstand, right?” Leon didn’t wait for Chris’s confirmation. He twisted his spine and reached across the bed into the nightstand beside the mattress, shirt bunching up again and showing more of that deliciously toned body. Leon fished around in the top drawer and let out a noise of triumph before coming back with a standard 15 round magazine. Using upper body strength alone, Leon moved back in between Chris’s legs and pushed in the magazine, checking all the outer parts and then flicking the safety off, then on again for extra measure. 

“There you go,” Leon said, smiling at the gun and looking unreasonably sexy for someone who was just lying atop Chris’s bed with a fucking weapon in their hand. “Now you can defend us from bad guys. Is this Bullet-Chan?”

“I wish that gun were my dick,” Chris said.

Leon sputtered a laugh and laid the firearm carefully on the top of the nightstand before reaching back under the pillow, muzzle pointed away from them, and finally— _finally_ — fishing out the lube. It was a bottle the size of Leon’s hand and half empty. “I gotta ask,” Leon said, something odd coming over his expression. “Is this all used up because you spoil yourself or am I just another notch in the bedpost?”

Chris’s eyes went wide at the vulnerability he heard in Leon’s words. He bent over and tangled his fingers in Leon’s hair to make the man face him and look him in the eyes. “You listen to me, Leon Kennedy,” Chris ordered. “You are not and never will be anything as insignificant as that. You’re my partner, Leon, in every sense of the word you want to be. Don’t ever think you’re anything less than everything to someone like me.”

Leon grimaced and cut his eyes away, seemingly unused to such blatant declarations of feelings. “Don’t get sappy,” he grumbled. “Just— tell me what to do. I can’t— there’s a lot in my head. Don’t make me think.”

Chris could get on board with that. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea,” Leon said, squirming beneath Chris. “But if you don’t get a move on, I’m gonna have to take the reins myself.”

“This isn’t just sex, Leon, you can’t just brute force your way through this.”

Leon’s brow raised. Chris realized he’d just issued a challenge. “God dammit.”

Leon hooked a leg around Chris’s waist, got his elbow over Chris’s neck, and pushed hard, using momentum to slam Chris into the mattress and swing himself up on top. Leon laughed, the sound loud and happy from where he was now perched on Chris’s lap, obviously pleased with himself. “You didn’t even put up a fight,” he said, smiling down at Chris, hands planted on Chris’s chest to keep himself steady. His ass was atop Chris’s cock again, knees at Chris’s sides, a comfortable weight and a teasing pressure on Chris’s erection. Jesus christ, this was torture. Leon looked damn good on top of him, hair falling in front of his face, eyes bright with something like joy. Chris’s heart ached with love. 

“I’m supposed to be the one fucking you,” he reminded Leon. “Unless you think you can handle that yourself?”

“You talking about me fucking myself or me fucking you?” Leon shrugged as Chris choked on his own tongue. “I’ll fuck you later, Redfield, no reason to get antsy.” Then Leon was squirming down Chris’s legs, hands running down the planes of Chris’s flat stomach. “I don’t know much about the intricacies of sex with guys,” Leon said. “But there’s one part I know that’s pretty much universal when a dick is involved.”

Then Leon was pulling down the waistband of Chris’s sweatpants, Chris’s cock, heavy and full, springing up between them. It slapped against Chris’s belly, a smatter of precum dotting his skin. Leon’s eyes went wide and Chris cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, you did say people passed rumors about the legendary proportions,” he tried to joke.

“Remind me to never say you take steroids again,” Leon said, staring at Chris’s erection. “Because steroids have never touched you— not with a dick this big. It’s just not possible.”

“Stop staring at it,” Chris told him with an edge of embarrassment. He knew it was larger than average and his partners constantly got themselves in some eventual tizzy, saying that it was too big and that it would hurt and that, essentially, Chris couldn’t be trusted to know his own strength. “We don’t have to do this.”

Leon finally tore his eyes from Chris’s cock to look Chris in the eye. That devious grin was slowly returning. “Chris, trust me— I’m not complaining.” 

Immediately, Chris’s anxieties bled away. He wondered why he’d even bothered comparing this to his previous partners. Leon was unlike anyone Chris had ever been with. Chris was drawn out of his thoughts by the sensation of Leon taking the base of Chris’s cock in his hand, and that perfect mouth pressing delicately against the tip, precum glistening as it smeared across Leon’s lips. 

_”Oh fuck me,”_ Chris wheezed as his head fell back against the mattress. The sight of Leon like this— since when did Chris have so little self control? Leon’s mouth on the heated skin was torture, the other man feeling out the waters, grazing against him, testing and tasting. Chris covered his face with his hands, knowing that if he looked back down and saw Leon figuring out how to get his lips around his very first cock, Chris would explode. The fumbling touches of a man who knew what he liked and wondering how it translated, the hot puffs of breath along the shaft, the drag of a tongue. Chris breathed carefully and tried not to cum too fast, even the mental image of Leon, with his bright eyes and focused expression, that serious look he’d where when he was trying to get something right, all of that focused on Chris’s fucking dick. The universe was unfair because Chris wanted to see this more than anything, and yet he knew that if he looked, this would all be over way too soon.

“Just t-take your time,” Chris stammered, feeling like he was failing as a teacher because how was he supposed to coach someone sucking him off? Leon’s skillful tongue dipped into the slit and Leon made a noise at the taste. Chris fought to keep his ass on the bed, not wanting to throw Leon off with a badly timed thrust. “Don’t go too fast,” he advised as Leon dragged his lips over the head and sucked gently, feeling it out. Chris’s hips jerked and he whined deep in the back of his throat. Leon was really good at being a fucking tease, that was for sure. “Take your time.”

Leon snorted a laugh. “Fuck that.” That was the only warning Chris got before Leon’s lips stretched wide and Leon took Chris as far down as he could in fluid motion.

Chris couldn’t help it— his body thrust up into Leon’s mouth and the other man pulled off quickly with a cough. Chris looked down, guilt lacing through him, past the lingering pleasure of Leon’s mouth around him. “I am so sorry,” he said, knowing he was much too big to be doing that sort of thing even with someone who knew what they were doing. He sat up, braced on his elbows. “Fuck, Leon, I’m sorry.”

Leon sat back on his haunches, brow furrowed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He glared down at Chris, but not like he was angry. “Lay back,” he ordered. “I’m gonna try again.”

Chris was stunned. “You don’t have to.”

“Fuck off, I want to.” Leon pushed Chris back down with a hand to his chest. “Do me a favor and don’t move— I’m gonna get this right.”

Why the actual fucking did Chris find Leon’s stubbornness to deep throat his cock a turn on.

“Any tips?” Leon asked, staring down at Chris’s cock like it was his next battle to win. There was a determined glint to his eyes, tongue swiping across his lips. Chris was speechless. Leon sent him a cocky grin and wrapped his hand around Chris, long fingers pale against the flushed shaft. “Guess I’m doing something right,” he said as he stroked Chris with the ease that could only come from another man. “I gotta say, it’s not that different,” Leon told him as Chris laid his head back and tried to focus on the lazy heat welling in his gut. Leon was only touching, exploring, figuring out what Chris liked and what he liked through experience. Chris was happy to play doctor with Leon if that was what it took. He actually liked the gentle grip of Leon’s fingertips, the drag of his unsure touch. How he was being so careful. It was the sweetest of tortures and Chris couldn’t get enough of the other man.

“Touching you,” Leon said, voice low like he was talking to himself. “Seeing the way you react, the way you try to hold back. I don’t know.” Leon kept up his strokes with an agonizingly languid pace. The hand that was still on Chris’s chest moved in slow circles, just feeling Chris’s body while the other hand pulled Chris’s sanity apart. “I like touching you,” Leon murmured. “I like being the one to make you feel good. It’s something I’ve always wanted, you know. I didn’t know how it would work, but I knew I wanted to do it. Should’ve known you wouldn’t be picky about it.” The hand on Chris’s chest moved down, settling on his stomach, pressing, pinning Chris. 

“I should have known you’d be like this,” Leon continued to think aloud. “Others first, never putting yourself ahead of anyone else. Happy to let me do whatever I please even if it’s not what you want.” Leon hummed softly under his breath. “You’re so fucking good, Chris, in every meaning of the word. I know you said you wanted to take care of me— just let me do this for you.”

Then Leon was sinking back down on Chris’s cock, taking him further, moving so fucking slowly that Chris was sure he was going to die. Chris held his breath as that wet heat enveloped him, tight and perfect and almost shy in its decent, Leon being as careful as he could, whether for himself or for Chris, he wasn’t sure. Regardless, Chris was wound tight as a knot, trying desperately to keep from dislodging Leon with a cant of his hips. His thighs trembled with the effort around Leon’s head, the only thing keeping him in place being the firm hand on his stomach. 

“Fuck, Leon,” Chris gasped as Leon’s tongue did this thing that had Chris’s entire being flinching. Leon was about two inches down from what Chris could feel and he wasn’t sure how far Leon intended to go. For now, Chris’s head was a swirl of lust and affection, wondering how the two emotions could meld like this with Leon’s mouth on him. Leon sunk even lower, before drawing back up, then sinking down again, a moan slipping out from the other man and sending delicious vibrations down Chris’s body. He shuddered and whimpered an embarrassing noise, turning to hide his face in the pillow beside him. The hand that was on his stomach trailed down and then off Chris entirely, taking his fingers and— threading them with Leon’s. 

Leon was holding his fucking hand while trying to suck Chris’s dick.

White hot _need_ shot through Chris’s spine and his hips thrust upwards again, too sharp and too fast, forcing his cock deeper down Leon’s throat. The other man grunted but didn’t pull off or choke like Chris had expected. Instead, he moved with the thrust and readjusted, adapting perfectly in the way only Leon fucking Kennedy could. The hand that was holding the base of Chris’s cock moved down to his balls, rolling them delicately, as Leon his head. Chris threw his head back as his toes curled, Leon’s name coming out in a desperate whine. Then Leon was inching further and impossibly further down with the next suck, almost startling Chris with how far Leon could take him, and that searing pleasure was too much all at once. Chris made the mistake of looking down, saw Leon with his long lashes dusting his cheeks, lip stretched wide around him, so fucking gorgeous between his legs, and Chris was going to fucking _cum_ —

“Stop, stop, stop!” he babbled, expecting a bit of a fight, but was relieved when Leon yanked himself off and lurched back. Leon let go of his hand and put a little too much space between them, yet Chris was grateful for the breather. He wrapped his own fingers around the base of his cock, holding back the orgasm with extreme effort. “Jesus christ,” he gasped, laughing a little. “Of course you’d be a natural at everything.”

When Leon didn’t respond, Chris looked up, expecting him to be mocking Chris a little for having such a trigger finger, but Leon instead looked— scared. “What?” Chris asked, sitting up, alert. “What’s wrong?”

“You said stop,” Leon told him, voice shaking. “I thought—”

Leon cut himself off, but Chris didn’t need him to continue. Dread sunk into Chris’s gut and he scowled, cursing a dead man. “If I could kill Agapito twice, I would,” he told Leon, reaching out to pull the man close again, taking Leon by the waist and coaxing him into his lap. Chris carded his fingers through Leon’s hair and kissed his neck, feeling Leon manually relax every muscle against him. “I needed you to stop because I was about to cum down your throat and end all of this too son,” he told Leon, forgoing his embarrassment for Leon’s comfort. “You’re okay, Leon. You’re safe with me.”

“I would never do that to anyone,” Leon swore into Chris’s ear. “Never. I’m not— I can’t.”

“I know,” Chris assured him, rubbing up and down Leon’s spine, feeling his pulse against his lips. His cock still throbbed with desire and he wanted nothing more than to push Leon down and take the man how they both wanted, but what Leon had survived, the trauma he’d experienced— it was much more important. “You stopped when I told you to stop, you didn’t even hesitate. You’re a good man, Leon Kennedy. You’re nothing like him.”

Leon trembled and nodded, clinging to Chris like he was afraid to be dropped again. Chris wouldn’t be the one to let him go— Leon would have to pull away first. Chris had long ago learned to never be the one to end an embrace and he wasn’t about to let Leon down. He kissed the thrum of Leon’s heartbeat again and said, “We don’t have to do this now.”

Leon pulled away sharply, sitting up straight in Chris’s lap and glaring down at him. Then he tore off his shirt and tossed it carelessly to the side. Chris was suddenly left holding a shirtless Leon Kennedy who was close enough to taste and he was speechless. When Chris failed to say anything, could only sit and stare, Leon cocked a brow. “You gonna do something, Redfield? I thought you were the one running the show.”

“I don’t want to do anything—”

“If you think for one god damn second I’m going to let that fucker ruin this for us, then you’re trying to fuck the wrong person, Redfield.”

Chris sputtered and then laughed, unable to understand how he ever could have told himself he disliked this tenacious and passionate man. “Get the lube,” he told Leon, holding his hips steady. “And get completely undressed.”

Leon looked down at himself and finally seemed to realize he was still wearing jeans and a belt. The course denim was rubbing the oversensitive skin of Chris’s cock and yet he couldn’t bring himself to ask Leon to move away. Leon did move, though, and Chris was sad to see him go. Leon stood fluidly and stepped back down the mattress to jump down to the floor, immediately working away at his belt. Chris took the pause to strip out of the sweatpants, reaching for the lube and squirting a healthy amount into his palm. He wondered if he should try to get Leon off first, thinking that it’d be best to have Leon lax from the orgasm if Chris was going to—

Chris looked up and fucking stared again as Leon nonchalantly kicked off his jeans and boxers and stood naked at the foot of Chris’s bed like it was nothing special. Like Leon, perfect fucking Leon with the effortless hair and face and everything, was nothing special. Chris gaped at the lean body before his eyes, the flat stomach and toned muscles, strong thighs and broad shoulders with a collar bone like a knife. Chris’s mouth watered and Leon just crawled back onto the bed and looked at Chris expectantly. “What are you waiting for?”

“Excuse me if I want some time to look,” Chris murmured, reaching out, needy, wanting his hands on Leon _right fucking now._ “God, Leon, are you even real?”

Leon frowned and looked down at himself like he didn’t know what Chris was making a big deal over. “If anything, I should keep my clothes on,” Leon said. “I’m a fucking stick compared to you.”

Chris squinted up at Leon, unsure if he was being serious. “I don’t have a fork to throw at you.”

Leon choked on a laugh and ducked his head to hide his face. Chris wasn’t going to have that. He took Leon’s jaw, mindful of the bruise, and pulled the man in, kissing him sweetly. Leon melted into his touch and leaned into Chris, fumbling back into his lap like he needed to be closer. Leon’s arms went around his neck and the man was clinging to him again. Chris had never thought Leon would be so touchy, even in sex, but he loved it. “Spread your legs,” he told Leon softly, their mouths still working together like Leon was loathe to separate. “Trust me.”

“Don’t even have to fucking ask,” Leon told him with a snort, moving in Chris’s lap to have his knees planted on the mattress on either side of Chris’s thighs. His cock bobbed enticingly between his legs and Chris wished he could get his mouth on Leon and maybe teach him a thing or two about sucking someone off, but that would have to wait. Leon was watching him with an air of confidence that did little to hide the nervous vulnerability Chris could feel in the hands gripping his shoulders, tense and ready for anything. Years of fighting had long ago taught Chris how to read the way a soldier stood. Leon was putting on a brave front. Chris was going to reward him.

“Don’t tense up,” he warned, slipping his slick hand between Leon’s head, ignoring the heat he could feel emanating from Leon’s erection and telling himself he’d get to have his fun later. “It’s going to feel weird if you’ve never—”

“Do it, Redfield.”

Chris smiled against Leon’s lips and brushed his fingers along Leon’s inner thighs, getting him used to the foreign touch before trailing up and pressing against Leon’s entrance, not pushing inside, only giving light pressure and a taste of what would happen. Leon breathed shakily into their kiss, but gave Chris a firm nod. Chris put his free hand behind Leon’s neck to keep their foreheads together, gazing intently into Leon’s eyes to make sure he would catch the first sign of pain if it happened, and then pushed. 

Leon’s body gave easily, Leon once again proving himself to be a damn natural at just about everything. Chris remembered hearing about how Leon had crash landed a plane and survived. This man could do fucking anything and Chris couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be the first one to touch him like this. “Breathe deep,” Chris whispered as he let Leon adjust, knowing his own fingers were wider than the average. Leon nodded and shut his eyes, rolling his hips down onto Chris’s finger like he was testing himself. Chris grinned and kissed the corner of Leon’s mouth. “Easy, Leon,” he soothed. “I’ve got you.” Chris began to move the single digit in and out, testing for himself, feeling how tight Leon was around this one intrusion and knowing that he would feel like fucking heaven once Chris got inside of him. Chris let Leon adjust to the single finger for a few seconds before the roll of Leon’s hips became impatient.

“I’m not made of glass,” Leon huffed. “I’ve been fucking shot, you think I can’t take this?”

“I’d rather it not hurt at all,” Chris told him even as he slowly worked in a second finger along the other. Leon’s brow furrowed at the added stretch, but he didn’t complain and didn’t stop rolling down, making himself accommodate. “Jesus, Leon,” Chris breathed. “We have all the time in the world.”

“I want you.”

Leon’s words hit Chris hard in the chest, the simple utterance explaining everything in Leon’s desperate movement. He couldn’t do anything for the emotions strangling him as he forced himself to maintain the eye contact and let Leon see the way Leon made Chris feel, in the same way Leon couldn’t hide from Chris behind his hair when they were so close. “I’ve got you,” Chris assured him gently, reminding himself of everything Leon had been through in the past week. “I’ve got you. Just let me— take care of you.”

Leon grimaced, but nodded and sunk down on Chris’s fingers again, sighing softly in a way that made Chris hope he was starting to enjoy it. “Another,” Leon beckoned. “I can take it.”

Chris couldn’t help it— he kissed Leon again as he pressed the third finger inside, felt the gasp Leon couldn’t keep down. He pumped the fingers slowly and oh so fucking carefully, feeling Leon’s body relax and open up around him, purposeful effort on Leon’s part. Chris was impressed, knowing he hadn’t been this adaptable the first time someone had penetrated him. Chris continued to kiss Leon, gentle little pecks meant to distract while his fingers stretched the other man wider, knowing it wouldn’t be enough no matter the effort he put in. Leon shuddered around him and let out a noise that Chris didn’t understand. 

“Not to be a bitch,” Leon grunted. “But is this it?”

Chris blinked, thinking for a moment, before he realized that he’d been neglecting one of the best parts of being fucked. He grinned toothily, a little embarrassed that he’d forgotten. Chris put more purpose into the thrusts of his fingers, reaching further, searching, gaining speed and making his movements less clinical. Chris fucked Leon deeper and watched closely, cataloguing the way Leon began to relax and even sink into the touch beyond just forcing himself to relax. Leon began to enjoy it, the tiniest noises of pleasure slipping out between breaths, his cock beginning to leak between their bodies. Chris smiled and kissed him again and then crooked his fingers, brushing that one spot.

Leon froze in his arms. For a second, Chris was worried, until he heard Leon’s voice, tiny and almost shy— “Do that again.” Chris obliged happily, pressing more insistently into the bundle of nerves, feeling Leon shake. “Again,” Leon whispered. Chris would do anything Leon asked of him while Leon looked like this, eyes dark and pupils blown. Chris pressed harder, rubbing insistently, watching Leon’s gaze glaze over with pleasure. 

“That more to your liking?” Chris asked with a snarky brow raised, grinning wider when Leon couldn’t respond with words, only a long moan. Leon’s hips were working back down onto Chris’s fingers, trying to get him to hit the spot again and hit harder, but Chris pulled his fingers back and away, spreading carefully, finding the give of Leon’s body even more willing with the taste of what was to come. “I’ve got you, Leon,” Chris assured him even as Leon became more desperate, seeking out the touch for more, whimpering when he couldn’t get what he wanted. Chris bushed the hair from Leon’s eyes and felt a thrill lace through him at the pleading look Leon gave him through the haze of pleasure. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” Chris murmured, fucking Leon with short thrusts of his hand and nothing else, taunting Leon in brushing close to those nerves, but not enough to give Leon what he needed. Leon shook above him, lost in the sensations. Chris couldn’t stop himself from stealing another hungry kiss, delighted when Leon could barely reciprocate, too caught up in the foreign feelings. “Absolutely beautiful,” Chris murmured, never wanting to look away. “You think you’re ready?”

“Jesus fuck,” Leon gasped, struggling to keep his focus. Chris reveled in the dazed look that overtook Leon’s face every time he brushed the prostate, loving being able to give Leon something this good. “H-how should I know?”

Leon had a point— this was Chris’s forte and Chris had talked big shit about being in control. But he almost wanted to put this over on Leon, teach the man how to trust his instincts, let him figure out how it should feel so if— and only if— Leon were with anyone else, he’d be able to keep himself safe. The realization of his motives had a wave of _something_ clenching in Chris’s chest and he bent forward to nip and suck at the column of Leon’s neck. “You’re doing so well,” he told Leon, ignoring his own need for the moment just to make sure Leon was able to take care of himself. “But this is important. If you’re with someone and they move too fast, if they don’t take their time making sure you’re ready, you could—”

He was cut off by the cuff of a hand smacking his shoulder blade. Chris looked up and saw Leon glaring down at him, or at least trying to. Chris was still slowly fucking him with his fingers and every push in had Leon’s glare melting away. “There’s not gonna be a-anyone else,” Leon got out with effort. “Am I ready or not?”

Chris pushed past the stunned feeling of being told Leon didn’t intend to ever be with another man and focused on what was in front of him. He spread his fingers casually again, watching Leon arch into his chest. “Does that hurt?”

“No,” Leon choked out, rolling down onto Chris’s hand. “Maybe— fuck, I-I want—” Leon cut himself off with a whine, looking almost confused, trying to sort around what he was feeling versus what he was _feeling_. “More,” Leon finally settled on. “Want more.”

Chris couldn’t help the stupid, love struck grin that pulled at his lips. His cock was angry and begging for anything between his legs, and Chris finally let himself anticipate what he’d brought Leon here to do. “Get on the bed,” he told him softly, carefully pulling his fingers from Leon, which Leon seemed to dislike with the way he scowled a little and his hips moved down, searching for the missing pleasure. “Come on, Leon, don’t you trust me?”

“You’re way too careful,” Leon griped as he pull away from Chris and moved down the bed on shaking legs, still off kilter from what Chris had been doing before. 

“Hands and knees,” Chris said as he took the lube and slicked up his cock, wincing at the touch of the cool liquid to the oversensitive skin. He looked up in time to watch Leon’s back stiffen. “Something wrong?”

Leon kept his face hidden. “What if I want to see you?”

Chris fell a little more in love and kept himself from making a ridiculous coo at how adorable Leon could be. He reached out and splayed his wide hand over the small of Leon’s back, digging in blunt nails to drag down Leon’s skin. Leon arched into the touch and Chris grinned wider. “It’ll be easier this way,” he told Leon, wishing he could give the other man what he wanted. “You have to be a little bendy if you’re on your back. This will be the most comfortable for your first time.”

Leon glared daggers at Chris from over his shoulder, dropping on his back onto the mattress, and then grabbed his own ankle, bringing his leg up and hooking his foot behind his own leg. 

Chris gaped.

“I can do the other one too,” Leon told him with his entire fucking leg behind his fucking head, still somehow looking graceful and simultaneously deadly with those sharp green eyes digging into Chris, daring him to underestimate him again. Jesus christ, and with his leg up like this, sinewed thigh stretched and taut, his stretched hole glistening below. Well, Chris was only human. 

“You’re fucking awful,” Chris said before he pushed Leon back against the headboard, that leg falling down between them, Chris settling between Leon’s knees. “Is there anything you can’t do?” he asked as he attacked Leon’s mouth, feeling out of his mind. Leon laughed between them, breathless and haughty, those flexible legs coming up to wrap around Chris’s waist and tease the swell of his ass on Chris’s weeping cock. 

“Leon, you’re gonna kill me,” Chris groaned as he loomed over the other man, planting his hands on either side of Leon’s head, above his shoulders. Leon bent easily between them, bringing one of his knees up to his ears, knowing how to entice like it was instinct. Chris couldn’t look away from the pretty picture Leon made, rumpled with foreplay and effortlessly perfect. Chris hooked that leg over his shoulder, marveled at how Leon easily took the bend, and wondered how he had gotten so lucky. He carefully positioned the head of his cock against Leon’s entrance, watching the other man again, looking for any sign that he was remembering— _that piece of shit._ But there was nothing, none of that fear, none of the memories. Only Leon watching Chris and then slowly growing impatient with the pace. “Are you ready?” Chris asked one final time, keeping his voice low between them. Leon blushed from something, Chris couldn’t name what, but it looked good on him, just like everything else. 

“Yeah,” Leon said, his voice cracking at the end before he nodded. “I’m good. Just—” Leon squirmed a little, lips pursed. “D-do you want me to beg or something?”

Chris had to reached down and grab himself at the base, staving off a sudden wave of overwhelming pleasure at the very suggestion. Jesus, this wasn’t going to last long. “As appealing as the idea is, I think you’d kill me.” Then he teased the head of his cock, pressing against that heat but only barely, wanting to give Leon ample time to say he wasn’t okay with it. “I’ll go slow,” he told Leon. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Several things happened at once— Leon huffed, rolled his eyes, lifted his hips a little, and then used the leg around Chris’s waist to snap the man’s hips forward, burying four inches inside Leon without warning. Leon cried out sharply and winced and twisted his hands in the sheets and Chris fucking _hate_ himself even though it wasn’t his fault, but then Leon fumbled out a laugh, rolled his hips again, and said, “like a bandaid.”

“Are you fucking—” Leon’s legs tugged Chris in again and Chris choked on his words as he sunk deeper into that tight heat, unable to fight back because moving at all would be the end of him. 

Leon felt— Leon felt like nothing else Chris had ever experienced. It was like everything Chris was had zeroed in on Leon’s body around him, his pulse thrumming hard in his veins, throbbing in time with the pleasure that came simply from being inside the other man. Leon tensed around him and Chris whined deep in his throat, shutting his eyes because if he even so much as looked at Leon, he’d be gone. Leon kept moving, kept adjusting, kept adapting, and Chris was about to implode. He finally whimpered pathetically and took Leon by the hips, holding the man still. There was a pause, then a soft chuckle, and then hands on his face, holding him. Chris took another moment, breathing carefully through his nose as the throbbing began to ease, that heat in his belly pooling away as control was regained. Then Chris opened his eyes and saw Leon was smiling up at him, caressing Chris’s face and patiently waiting.

“God, Chris,” Leon said. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

And that— 

What?  
Chris— wasn’t used to that. Wasn’t used to being told those sorts of things, wasn’t used to being the one to get that kind of attention. Even if he weren’t the one on top, Chris didn’t receive that kind of affection because no one ever really looked at him and thought he needed to hear it. He was pretty sure the only person to ever pay him a real compliment was his fucking mother of all traumatic things, so hearing Leon say something like that when Leon was beneath him, Leon was the one this was happening for, Leon was the one who deserved the words and attention, Chris just—

Leon groaned softly and his leg tightened, pulling Chris even deeper, forcing a gasp from them both. “God,” Leon breathed, still holding Chris’s face. “God, Chris, I never thought— Jesus, is it always this good?”

Chris had no idea if it was, he was still floored from how easily Leon had said Chris was beautiful. Who the fuck just said that shit? What was Chris supposed to do? He felt shaky and out of his depth. He breathed and blinked rapidly, feeling overwhelmed. Leon’s hands holding his face felt like a shield protecting him from whatever else there was beyond him. Chris realized suddenly why this was so fucking different— he realized he’d never been with a man that he actually felt he loved.

Chris surged down and kissed Leon hard, finally feeling back in command and acting the part. His grip on Leon’s hips tightened and he pulled out before sliding back in carefully, wanting to make sure Leon hadn’t pushed himself past a breaking point in his haste. Leon sighed softly and tilted his head back into the pillow, hair splaying out around him like a halo. He met Chris’s next thrust, a fucking natural at this just like everything. “You can go harder,” Leon told him lowly, still holding Chris’s face in his hands, still looking up at him with this unending expanse of trust that shook Chris to his core. “I can take it,” Leon promised. “I can take you. I want— more.”

Chris had to shut his eyes again. “We need a safe word.”

Leon snorted a laugh beneath him and Chris felt it around his cock. “You’re not _that_ big, Redfield.”

Chris opened his eyes so he could surge forward and kiss Leon. “We need a safe word.”

Leon hummed against his lips. “Raccoon.”

“Still think it’s morbid.”

“You’ll stop dead in your tracks if I say it, and you know it.”

Chris couldn’t help but grin against Leon, loving the playful delight he saw in those green eyes. “You’re pretty cocky for a guy with a cock up his ass,” he teased. When Leon raised a brow, Chris realized that his pun made more sense for the opposite. “Shut up,” he said before snapping his hips forward, lurching Leon up the mattress and wiping that smug expression clean. Chris’s grin sharpened as he finally regained the upper hand, setting a slow, punishing pace that was offset by how hard he fucked into Leon, Leon being pushed up the mattress with every push in. Hands left Chris’s face to brace against the headboard, broken noises forced from Leon’s swollen lips with each thrust. It was Chris’s turn to be entranced, leaning over Leon and resting their foreheads together as he fucked him. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Chris told him as he quickened, Leon’s face falling into an expression of dazed ecstasy like he didn’t even understand how good it felt but loved it. Chris pressed bruises into Leon’s hips, Leon bouncing up the bed, the whimpers turning into moans. Chris weaved his fingers through Leon’s hair and held fast, watching Leon succumb to the pleasure, ignoring the welling hunger in his own chest because he wanted— _needed_ — to make Leon cum first. 

The slap of flesh on flesh had Chris close again, his thighs trembling with the effort of keeping a now brutal pace. Leon writhed beneath him and Chris took Leon’s other leg from his waist to hook it over his shoulder, leaning forward and bending Leon in half. The change of angle pushed Chris deeper and Leon cried out brokenly as Chris rammed into that spot over and over with bruising force. 

Leon shuddered around him, arching into his thrusts, bowing off the bed and tightening, showing all the signs of getting closer and closer to that peak. He was gasping for breath and looking up at Chris, begging with his eyes even though he couldn’t get out the words, only desperate noises and shouts when Chris hit the bundle of nerves dead on and without mercy. Leon’s walls were vicelike around Chris’s cock, and Chris was so close too, his balls drawing up, his body telling him he wasn’t going to last long. But Chris— Chris fucking needed to see Leon cum first. He’d spent ages thinking about it, wondering what it looked like, how it felt, the sounds Leon would make. Chris _needed to see it._

He snaked his hand between their bodies to where Leon’s cock was trapped against his stomach. Chris wrapped his fingers around the aching shaft and swallowed the noise Leon made at finally being touched, the ruined moan that sent fire into Chris’s veins. It only took three quick tugs before Leon’s body was spasming around him and the man went taut, frozen, arched off the mattress and gasping into Chris’s lungs. It seemed to go on forever, Leon’s orgasm ripping everything from him, eyes sliding into the back of his head. It kept Leon suspended in nothing for ages until the man suddenly slumped back onto the bed with a broken noise, wrecked. Chris kissed Leon and felt something possessive race through him as Leon proved to be too out of it to kiss back, moving helplessly with Chris’s still bruising thrusts.

It was too much. Chris pulled away from the kiss to hide in Leon’s neck, smothering his shout of relief as he came inside the other man, filling him and making Leon his. His hips canted forward uncontrollably and his vision whited out, the only thing in his mind being Leon and the way he tasted and felt around him. It sent Chris’s heartbeat haywire, the sound pounding in his ears, before it finally ended and Chris went boneless atop Leon, unable to hold himself up. Leon barely even made a noise, accepting the weight of Chris atop him without complaint. Then tired, loose arms wrapped around Chris’s neck and he felt the warmth of wet lips on his temple, Leon whispering encouraging little nothings into his ear, holding Chris close as he came down.

Chris was struck with that wave of possessiveness again and was drowned in the fact that he didn’t deserve someone like Leon S. Kennedy.

They laid together a long moment, Leon beginning to rub his thumbs into the muscles of Chris’s neck, somehow being the one to to give the comfort. Chris wasn’t going to argue it. Leon’s touch was soothing and quelling the trembles of the lingering aftermath, the throbs that had his body tensing and forcing him to relax in waves. After they both took their moments, Chris finally tried to lift himself up on weak arms. He was pretty sure he hadn’t cum like that in years. He pulled out of Leon carefully, feeling a surge of lust pierce him at the sight of his seed leaking for Leon’s body, and then carefully lowered Leon’s legs back to the bed, hoping he hadn’t bent Leon too far.

“I don’t know about you,” Leon said with a gravelly voice, hoarse from shouting. “But that was kinda the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Laughter burst from Chris before he could contain it and he looked down at Leon with a swell of affection. Leon sat up, grunting a little with the effort, and then ran a hand through his fucked up hair. “I’m gonna be so sore,” Leon said. “Is this like alcohol? If I drink before I can have the hangover, then there’s no hangover. Is sex the same? If we just fuck again, will it skip the soreness?”

“You have the worst pillow talk,” Chris told him. 

“You love me,” Leon shot back.

“I do,” Chris replied. “I really fucking do.” The way Leon smiled when Chris told him felt so good at it hurt. Chris wanted to say more, wanted to declare it louder, when his doorbell rang. Alarm seized him and he reached for the gun on the nightstand, but Leon was faster. Leon stood quickly from the bed and grabbed his jeans from the floor, yanking them on with grace and ignoring the mess of his release still on his stomach, and then pulling on Chris’s hoodie, tucking the Samurai Edge into the back of his pants and being unreasonably sexy for a man that had been shoved abruptly from a post-sex-haze into a killing state. 

“Hold on,” he ordered. “I’ll be back.”

“Safe word’s raccoon,” Chris said dumbly. Leon nodded and left the bedroom. Chris quickly got dressed, ignoring the ache in his own body. He and Leon were used to going from zero to one hundred in seconds, it was the way their lives worked, but that didn’t mean Chris liked having the mood ruined. He heard the sound of the front door opening followed by Leon’s voice and then the voice of a stranger. Chris couldn’t make out the words and started to move quietly to the bathroom, knowing he had another gun in here. He pulled the Glock from the lowest drawer beneath the sink and loaded it as silently as possible, alert for anything. 

The voices stopped. The door was shut. Chris could suddenly smell cheese and meat.

Leon came into the bedroom with a sheepish expression and a pizza box in his hands. “When I originally came here, I’d thought there would be a lot more arguing,” he admitted. “So I had ordered this, thinking it would be best if I fed you first.”

“You,” Chris said, pointing sharply at Leon. “I fucking love you.”

Leon’s smile became relieved and he chuckled beneath his breath. “You care where we eat this?”

“I’m not leaving the bed again.”

Leon and Chris crawled onto the bed together and as Leon opened the pizza box— fucking meat lovers with extra mushrooms, Chris wondered if it was too early to consider marriage— Chris grabbed the remote to turn on the TV that was against the wall across from the bed. He flicked it to a random movie channel and turned down the volume, letting the drone of an action thriller fill the space as Leon began to eat ravenously. “Sex makes me hungry,” Leon told him. “Good sex makes me starved.”

“You’re gonna be putting on a lot of weight, then, because I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be spending the next half of my entire life in bed with you.”

Leon smirked. “Is that a promise?”

“Only if you can promise me that you’ll be here for it.”

Chris watched the mirth die in Leon, but it’d had to be said. Leon’s attempted suicide was still there, still a memory, still something Chris doubted he’d ever be able to forget. The way Leon had looked, staring up at his daughter and intended to be buried beside her— it would haunt him forever because Chris had known that he couldn’t blame Leon for feeling as defeated as he had. Any lesser man would have put a bullet in his head right then and there. “I’m not going to condemn you,” Chris told Leon softly as he took a slice and satisfied a secondary hunger compared to what he felt for the other man. “I can’t even imagine how it had to feel. But I can’t pretend it didn’t happen and I can’t pretend I don’t hate that it happened at all.”

Leon grimaced and looked away. Chris sighed and snuck his foot out, kicking Leon’s knee gently. They were both sitting crisscrossed atop the messy sheets and since their clothes were already dirty from not having cleaned off from the fantastic sex, Chris didn’t see much of a point in trying to keep from getting any dirtier. If anything, it gave Chris an excuse to drag Leon into the shower with him later. 

“I’m not going to get you in trouble,” Chris swore. “I didn’t say a word of what happened. I’m not going to lynch you for it. I don’t have the slightest idea how bad it had to feel. I’m just going to ask you to never make the same mistake again.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” Leon admitted in a vulnerable whisper. The words pushed the air from Chris’s lungs and he tried to stay calm, thinking of what he could say when Leon beat him to the punch. “If I lose you, I don’t think there’s any coming back from that.”

That—

Chris hadn’t considered that.

What if Leon fell in battle? The whole reason this had started was because Chris hadn’t been able to face a reality that had Leon dead. Chris was in the same boat, he’d been steadfast against it in every way, and that was pretty much the same thing, wasn’t it? What would Chris have done if Leon died? How badly would his life have become when he was suddenly afraid of falling and knowing the world would crumble with him? The weight of the burden would have crushed Chris. He— he would have ended up like Leon had with Sherry. 

And that was _before_ Chris had realized he was in love with Leon.

“I don’t think I can do this if I lose you too,” Leon continued, his voice shaking at the edge. “Maybe years ago I could have told myself it was possible, but not anymore. There’s just been so much. I’ve lost so much. And if I lose you, then that’s it.” Leon shrugged, staring into his lap, the slice of pizza in his hand ignored. “I don’t know. I just don’t think I’d keep going. Not because I would want to die— because I’d forget to keep myself alive.”

Chris could barely breathe. “Don’t think about that,” he got out.

“Would you be able to keep going?” Leon asked. “If I die?”

How could—

“I can’t think about it,” Chris confessed in a whisper. “I just can’t.”

He’d thought Leon would be offended— he was wrong. Leon smiled like his heart was breaking for Chris. “I guess that’s the difference between you and me,” he told Chris. “You can’t afford to think about it, and I— I can’t stop.” Leon looked up and Chris was almost sure there were tears in his eyes. “Look at us,” Leon murmured. “Two men trying to fight off the inevitable. It’s exhausting, and yet— All of a sudden, knowing now that I have you… I feel years younger again.”

That was the last thing Chris had expected to hear and more of a relief than he could describe.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Leon said. “I should just stop worrying.”

“You always did say you didn’t make plans that far ahead,” Chris said.

“I would say that because I always thought I’d be dead within the week,” Leon explained. “Now, though. Now I’m going to make sure I stick around.” Leon smiled at him again, though this time it hurt less to see. “What can I say, Chris? You need me— your stealth is shit. And someone has to stick around to make sure you don’t go full martyr.”

Chris couldn’t stop from smiling back. “Think you can keep me from destroying myself to save the world?” he teased.

“I plan on it,” Leon replied. “And look— this doesn’t change anything.” The air became somber, but Leon kept that brave smile. “I’m not okay. I still hear Sherry’s voice in my head and I see her eyes in my sleep. But I’ll be damned before I let her down again and give up.” He sat back with a sigh and took a bite of the pizza. “Now if only I could get my fucking life together, then she’d really be happy with me.”

“O’Brian is absolutely willing to bring you into the BSAA if DSO is dumb enough to let you go,” Chris told him. “This place is mine and Claire’s, but honestly we’re rarely ever in Virginia, so depending on what happens, you can stay here until you figure out the shit with your place. And you’re my boyfriend now.” At Leon’s arched brow, Chris winked. “No arguments accepted.”

“You really talked to your boss about picking up a sad sack of an alcoholic?”

Chris picked off a bit of sausage from his pizza and flicked it at Leon’s face. “I’m serious,” he said. “This whole shitty self esteem thing? We gotta work on that.”

“Are you saying I’m not an alcoholic?” Leon asked as he grumbled and got the oily meat from his hair.

“I’m not saying you’re perfect,” Chris replied. “But I am saying you’re too important to be tossed aside. And if you’re BSAA, then that means I can keep an eye on you.” Chris shrugged and picked up a second slice after having finished his first. “Best of both worlds, if you ask me. And they don’t have a rule against fraternization because of the shit we deal with, so I can hold your hand as much as I want and no one can give us shit.”

At Leon’s pervasive silence, Chris looked up and saw the other man was staring at him in some sort of awe. “You okay?” he asked gently.

“You really do want me.”

When Chris frowned, Leon chuckled. And finally— finally— those green eyes lost that last bit of ache to them and Leon looked genuinely happy again. “Sorry,” Leon said as he continued to laugh gently, the bed shaking with the sound. “I just never really expected things to get better, and yet here I am— this one impossible dream coming true.”

Chris didn’t care that they were both a little disgusting and now greasy with pizza— he reached across the bed and took Leon by the back of his neck, pulling the man in for a sharp kiss and swallowing the gorgeous laughter. Leon kissed him back, then shove greasy fingers into Chris’s face to push him away, complaining about his hair or something else ridiculous. Chris stared at the other man and said, “I love you.”

Leon grinned back even wider and said, “I love you too.”

Chris couldn’t stop smiling and he knew he would burn down the world for this man and was happy to do it. He was even more overjoyed to realize that Leon would do the same. All that was left was for Chris to redefine wanting versus needing now that they had become one and the same in the face of keeping Leon at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to all of you that read this!
> 
> i was honestly blown away by how much support i got, it's gosh darn ridiculous and you're all so great and i never expected such warm welcome into the chreon re community but y'all just blew me away and i love you all thank you <3


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